


Mother is God

by ElmiDol



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Awkward Word Sex, Cunnilingus, Dystopian society, Elements from The Giver, F/M, Implied Non-con/Rape with vague details, Implied and Vaguely described pregnancy, Kylo Ren is an outsider, Mentions of miscarriage, Rape/Non-con Elements, References to The Giving Tree, Relations with Kylo will be fully consensual, Vaginal Sex, controversial social norms, slight exploration of First Order stormtrooper program
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-25 02:19:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 42,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10754712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElmiDol/pseuds/ElmiDol
Summary: “I think newchildren are so cute,” Lily sighed. “I hope I get assigned to be a Birthmother.”“Lily!” Mother spoke very sharply. “Don’t say that. There’s very little honor in that Assignment.”~The Giver; Lois LowryIn a society where you are selected as birthmother, you find yourself mentally, secretly questioning the rules that govern your society and your role therein. An outsider proves only to further your confusion--are your treasonous thoughts justified?He tells you that Mother is God is the eyes of a child; he says this, and looks at you as though you are worth something, a concept that baffles you.





	1. To a Child

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Artisanthemage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artisanthemage/gifts).



> Obviously the subject matter this fic explores is VERY controversial and also something that is highly delicate. I am fully open to critique on this (please note, though, that criticism/critique is different than an attack). I have spoken with and hope to continue speaking with multiple individuals so as to properly and tastefully portray what is in this fic.
> 
> I read the Giver a while back, and then this idea floated through my head when Artisanthemage told me that they were reading it. For those who haven't read the book (even if you've seen the movie), it is a quick read that is VERY powerful.
> 
> Chapter length is a guesstimate

** Mother is God **

_“I think newchildren are so cute,” Lily sighed. “I hope I get assigned to be a Birthmother.”_

_“Lily!” Mother spoke very sharply. “Don’t say that. There’s very little honor in that Assignment.”_

**Chapter One: To a Child**

It is at the age of fifteen years that Assignments are handed out. This allows time for training; in your case, it offered a suitable duration for the injections to take before your eighteenth birthday. The moment you were given your Assignment, your friends had begun to distance themselves. Bowed heads when individuals passed you by were mistaken, as always, as signs of respect and reverence by outsiders. The tourists of your planet then pressed their hands together, dipped in a quick bow, and moved on. The elegant robes that were given to birthmothers did nothing to dissuade others from making the mistake. And those on your planet—ah, but they kept their tongues stilled, not a one uttering out fact.

A mask had been assigned to you when you had learned of your fate, your role in life. This you wore throughout the entire day. At night you were given a different object with which to hide your face. It was only when you bathed, when there was no one near you, that you could reveal your countenance. Even then, you were not allowed a mirror.

This resulted in whispers from foreigners. You were not the only one they pondered about. All birthmothers were a form of mystery that they delighted in. If the faces were hidden, it must mean they were gorgeous, some said. It is to hide that motherly glow, others stated.

This final portion often caused you pause. At night, before sleep at last took you, you would find yourself wondering what such a glow looked like.

When you were made to lie with your first, a new mask had been gifted to you. The mask of fertility in hopes that it would aid in his seed reaching your egg. You had kept your eyes closed that night, trembling in fear and apprehension—and hope that you would not fail. He had been gentle; it was unlike what some of the other birthmothers had described to you. Because the seed did not take, however, you were forced to endure a second such meeting. This time it was painful, and the man cared nothing for you at all. You had whimpered, been told to keep quiet, and so you had bitten down on your tongue and held your breath as much and as long as you could.

Though the birthmothers warned you against becoming in any way attached to the life growing within you, you could not help but touch your growing belly with a sense of affection. They would not tell you the gender. One of the birthmothers pregnant with her third, and thus final, child, told you of the mask you would wear when you gave birth. It had no holes for your eyes; you would never be allowed to look upon your child’s face, though you would still hear their first cry. You both feared and anticipated that moment. To hear the sound of the life growing within you.

You took to calling the child _Asher_ when you had your moments alone in the shower. The washcloth you would trace along your belly and feel the kicking of the child—your child.

Since your fifteenth birthday, you had been informed that yours was a loveless Assignment. Yet how you adored the part of you that you would never be allowed to truly meet. You whispered to Asher, always careful to keep your voice low so that it would not carry throughout the house. How greatly those whispers contrasted with the screams of your long labor. Those few seconds in which you could hear Asher wailing, those you clung to and thought of.

Even now, standing on the deck of one of the ceremonial buildings, you thought of Asher’s cries. What brought them to mind was you observing children run back and forth in play. Both the natives of your planet and the tourists. They each wore the robes and dresses appropriate for the celebration that was to take place. They each bowed their heads when they passed you by; the natives doing so in revulsion, while the tourists completed the actions with reverence.

Little did the latter know that the birthmothers were in no way celebrated. It was only the life that could bloom within you that held any sort of affection. Otherwise you were dirty. You shed monthly blood while others were given medications to stop such a flow. You could be touched by any man who claimed he was willing to pass on his gene. Rape was a foreign term when it came to birthmothers—they had nothing that could be taken; everything they had was to be freely given. _That_ was their—your—assignment.

This had done nothing to stifle the sense of loss from when your child had been taken from you, from those times you had hoped to utter the word _no_ while knowing that it would not be heeded.

_Asher is three today,_ you thought whilst continuing to observe the children. Their mirth was in no way lessened by the presence of the soldiers on your planet. Even the tourists seemed not to care that beings known as stormtroopers were shifting amongst them. Initially their white armor had caught your eye, however they were now a part of the background.

You hardly realized that you were searching the faces of those of your child’s age until a black-robed figure stepped in front of the small group of children you had been watching. You felt your heart clench in your chest. Behind your mask, you let the twin trail of tears continue to slowly form down your cheeks. Outwardly, you seized hold of your robe’s sleeve and adjusted it. The darkly clad individual wore a mask of their own; its visor was pointed your way. You stood there, waiting, expecting—and yet there was no dip of the chin, no form of bowing whatsoever.

_This one knows my worth,_ you thought without fully realizing how self-deprecating those sentiments were.

Children skirted around the figure, who then took a step closer to you. You mentally willed them to stop, to rethink the idea of approaching you, and yet they continued on. Step by step, closer to you. Resigned to your fate, you dropped your arms to your sides so that you could seize hold of the edges of your robes, These you parted in order to properly lower yourself into a kneeling position. Tourists all around stopped their activities, whispering to one another in awe. Their gazes traveled from you to the black robed person and back. The natives, meanwhile, stiffened and regarded both you and this stranger with slight disgust. These expressions soon changed into mild curiosity.

Boots filtered into your line of vision as the stranger came to a pause at the edge of the ceremonial building. Silence. You _despised_ silence when others were so near to you—it was part of your Assignment to remain quiet in order to be able to better listen to what was required of you.

“One day you will stop looking.” The voice was deep despite that it owner kept his voice low so as to prevent others from overhearing. Your lips parted at his words. How could he know? A pit rolled around in your stomach as the answer supplied itself; the Force. The ceremony today was in honor of the Force, of _life_. It was why birthmothers were invited to join in, because from them life continued.

The stranger lowered himself into a crouch when you did not respond. What were you to say? Denying his words would potentially bring more attention; it could show that you had failed in your duties by not fully accepting them.

Those who refused to honor their Assignment were taken to the fields for death. Ironically, the birthmothers who had fulfilled their duties of birthing three children were sent to the field to tend it.

“The affection you hold is…” His words died on his tongue—the level of disinterest he held fading. As though he had not been truly speaking those words _to you_. “With you, I am wrong.”

The wonder in his tone struck you; as though this man was not accustomed to admitting his mistakes. “Please,” you whispered, placing all hope that he would understand into that single word.

“A vessel of life.” You did not flinch; it was not the first time this had been uttered in your presence. The curiosity that colored the phrase, however, _was_ new. “How ironic that they reduce one of their own. I was informed that I am allowed to pick a dinner guest—do you wish to join me?”

“I…” You closed your mouth, sucked around nothing to gather saliva, and then wet your lips. With this done, you tried a second time. “I exist to serve those of life.”

“We’re all mere vessels.”

“Please do not say such things.” The robed man released a strange, metallic sort of noise that you knew was influenced by the vocoder of his mask.

Without repeating the sound nor making another, the robed man rose to his feet. This was a being held in awe by your society; those who could wield the Force were like gods. It baffled you that he would want _your_ company. Out of anyone in your society; you were a birthmother. Clearly this man was aware of things the other tourists blinded themselves to. You were no god, no goddess. You existed to endure bringing new life so that your wretched existence could have a purpose. You were not allowed to love nor want—still, you _wanted_ this man to keep silent about your _love_ for the child you did not know.

One of the elders arrived at the stranger’s side. You remained in your submissive position as the elder spoke to the Force user. Whispered words to explain the role of birthmother, to apologize if _you_ had done anything to offend this stranger. A dry, metallic chuckle from the Force user silenced any further commentary from the elder.

“She’s my guest,” he stated simply. You felt your stomach lurch.

The elder dropped his voice lower; some of the tourists were inching closer and closer in hopes to hear what was being said. “Only one was carried to term—the other lost… Should you wish to—“

“I have no desire to impregnate her.” It felt as though someone had delivered you a blow. You reeled back. Your existence was to give birth; and though you knew how lowly others viewed your position, the manner in which this phrase had been spoken by the man; you could not explain it, simply felt your intestines twisting. “She shall join me for dinner.”

“Birthmothers are not permitted entrance in the—“

Again did the stranger cut off the elder, as though he had not respect for the man’s position. “Then I will be served elsewhere, where _she_ **will** join me.” Leaving no room for argument, the Force user turned on his heel and left.

You remained there, waiting and fearing the elder’s reaction. He did nothing more than sigh, look to the sky, and whisper that _the Force works in mysterious ways, indeed_. He then gestured with his hand for you to stand. You did so, albeit with your head bowed. Tourists furrowed their brows, whispered to one another, and some ventured to point your way. You did what you could to ignore this all. It was not your place to judge them nor their ignorance.

The elder led you to the building that was normally reserved for bathing the birthmothers for the purpose of impregnation. The showers were elegant, the soaps expensive. As a child, you had been envious of the scents that filtered through the windows of this building. You had told your mother that you wished you could bathe in such extravagance. She had tightened her hold on your hand, whispered harshly to you that you did not understand what you were saying, and told you that those scents were the only way to hide the dirtiness that existed within birthmothers.

_Your_ sordid existence was yet again cleansed, albeit momentarily, with those soaps. You held your arms out to your sides as the nurses, two females, soaped your body with sponges and then rinses away all the filth. They ran their fingers through your hair, combing out any knots, and helped you dry when the shower was finished. The robe that was given to you was unlike any you had before worn. A green robe when you were to become impregnated. A maroon robe most other days. This time, your robe was a mixture of pink and dark purple. Your hair was arranged accordingly, a clip placed there.

The mask, too, was unlike any you had worn in the past. This mask covered only half of your face, leaving free your mouth so that you could eat. You felt goosebumps pimple along your flesh. To dine in such a manner with someone else—it was a foreign concept; you had not done so since your fifteenth birthday.

At the feel of a make-up-coated brush tracing along your lips, you found yourself repeatedly blinking. Cosmetics were not what you had come to use either. You kept your face hidden; what need did you have for them?

You spoke not a one of your thoughts. Your protests and noncompliance were always done so in silence. _Asher_ , you whispered in your head as you were escorted out of the building to meet once more with the elder.

“If he requests to impregnate you, it is your duty to recommend a more suitable birthmother,” the elder said as you arrived before him. You bowed your head in assent. “Such a child—one of the Force… We could not risk it being lost.”

You carried the weight of blame on your shoulders; even if the elders had not admonished you for losing the second child, you would have felt the guilt all the same. You blamed yourself— _what_ had you done _wrong_? Gabe had never known the beauty of life outside your womb, and never could.

“I exist to serve life, Elder Falcron.” Though he pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes, the elder nodded in acceptance of your words.

When next you saw the stranger you recognized him only by the robes he wore. That helmet had been removed; so young, your mind supplied in terms of his appearance. Brown eyes were drawn to your masked visage. They lowered to your lips, which caused your gut to again clench. _Do not request it of me,_ you silently prayed. He was seated at a place of honor amongst the elders. Whispers in the room; no tourists were here, and thus the words flowed more freely from those confused or otherwise upset by your presence in this building of worship. The Force was said to be most pure here—why was someone so _dirty_ inside its confines?

Elder Falcron deposited you in the seat beside the stranger, whose eyes had yet to leave you. Your placed your hands in front of yourself, one atop the other, and stared down at your empty plate. It would be filled when the meal began. All the while, you could see the stranger in your peripheral. You could hear the whispers dying away, those hissing breaths of disgust fading as the owners realized that they revered guest was perfectly capable of hearing them. When they realized that they were indirectly insulting him, a Force user—more than one person paled and/or ducked their head.

A small part of you wondered what Asher would think of you. Had Asher ever seen you? Perhaps your child had spoken words of disgust; could three-year-olds truly comprehend what a birthmother was? How dirty they were? You tried to remember how _you_ had been at that age.

“The Jedi, too, took children from their parents,” the stranger said; he kept his voice low though everyone was once again straining to hear. You turned your head to indicate you were listening; you would not shame your society by being rude to their honored guest. “Where I grew…” He paused, and you found yourself waiting with bated breath. “They say that Mother is the name for God in the lips and hearts of little children.”

“You cannot think to equate my role with that of a nurturer,” you said, though you felt your heart _yearning_ for your child, wishing that what this stranger spoke was truth. The Force user hummed in response then stared directly ahead of himself. The food for the meal was being brought into the room and served onto all the plates. Elder Falcron had nodded in response to your reproof of the Force user’s statement.

“It is true,” the honored guest began as those gathered began to eat their meal, “that it is not a mere blood connection that determines family. Some can be such a disappointment. They care nothing for the child; it was the idea they had fallen in love with.”

“That was known to many here,” you said, earning another nod of approval from the elders. “It is why our society adapted.”

“The same society that casts you away?”

Your hands clenched into fists. “You are an honored guest—and yet, do you truly not understand? The Force is said to make one more open to the truth.”

“The Force connects all living beings,” he drawled. “Do you not think that it is in you as well?”

“It is transferred to the child; purified,” you replied. “The sin remains in me while the Force, while life, is given new form.”

The man beside you did not respond this time. His pupils had dilated, his lips parting. He seemed almost at a loss—why was that? Had he truly not understood that this was the core of the beliefs in your society? Or were they so foreign? Surely more societies than not upheld these beliefs. The few tourists that came, you had pitied them their ignorance. Yet this man had you wondering if _you_ were the ignorant one…if your fears and secret ponderings were at all justified.

“I see,” the man responded after a time. He lifted up his utensils and took the first bite. Your gaze darted to the elders, who again displayed their approval that you had upheld their values, the same values that demonized you when your role as birthmother was ended. “And that is why you shall one day stop looking.”

_Asher_ , you thought, lowering your gaze. You wanted to tell the man that he was wrong; yet there were already expressions of confusion forming on the faces of those in the room. You could not do or say anything to further warrant their curiosity over his words.

You lifted your own utensils, slipped some food thereupon, and took a bite. In the corner of your eye, you could see the honored guest, the strange look in his eyes. It was the one you had given to your mother when you had been younger; a look of pure awe. He was looking at you in the same way a child looked upon their mother—it baffled you; you were a birthmother, not some god.


	2. Carved Out of Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is probably the MOST I've ever written Ren speaking...so talkative here. Also, the chapter length may increase depending on how things go. I do have in mind the basics of what I am hoping to express/explore. The idea of mother--as Ren states, I think it goes beyond just blood; what constitutes rape when you have a society such as this--I've seen some argue it would be dubcon and others state it is rape, which is why I want to do what I can to be tactful. Various things, but I don't want to say TOO much and ruin the chapter.

** Mother is God **

_“Well, they tried to make her life sound meaningful. And of course,” she added primly, “all lives_ are _meaningful, I don’t mean that they aren’t. But_ Edna _. My goodness. She was a Birthmother, and then she worked in Food Production for years, until she came here. She never even had a family unit.”_

**Chapter Two: Carved Out of Love**

There was a reason the First Order was allowed amongst those in your society; the soldiers were taken from birth for their assignment, much the same as the children were taken from birthmothers to serve their greater purpose. This was why it confused you all the more that the stranger had deigned to press the issue with you and your role. That he had dropped the matter, however, was of some comfort to you. The elders refrained from looking your way. They did, of course, glance here and there at the Force user. It was rare indeed to see anyone with a semblance of control over the unseen power. This man, meanwhile, controlled it with such ease—if the whispers you could hear rang true, that is.

You lifted the cup filled with water to your lips. Others had been given other beverages; wines and juices. You did not complain. It was not your place to complain. The revered guest, however, frowned when he at last took the time to look into your glass. You felt the muscles in your legs tense the moment he lifted his own cup, pouring some of the juice he had requested in place of wine. It would be diluted by the water, yet the flavor—you could smell its sweetness.

Attention from others was once more drawn to your direction. You placed your hands atop the table, palms down, and remained as still as possible. If the elders did not wish for you to drink any juice, you would not. The elders themselves answered to the power they viewed as omnipotent, to the Force—and so they turned to the man who had secured you as his guest. “This is what you wish?” asked Elder Al’kiv. “Master Ren, is it your wish that she take of your drink?”

The woman’s surprise was not fully concealed. The man beside you, Master Ren, replaced his cup beside his plate whilst uttering that he did, indeed, desire you to enjoy what he had poured. The elders shared a look, though ultimately they nodded in understanding and whispered how generous their guest was to those who did not deserve such kindness.

At these words, you held your breath. Would he worsen things by commenting? He was so _ignorant_. Ren managed to hold his tongue this time. The dark-haired man busied himself with his food. You resumed eating as well. As a birthmother, food was one thing that was not denied to you. Your body was to be kept as healthy as possible to ensure the children you bore were properly nourished. Juice was excess sugars, which was not needed. You swiped your tongue along your lips and drank only when at last you could stand your thirst no longer.

The scent of the juice was misleading in a way. Though it had a certain level of sweetness, there was also a sort of bitterness that remained on your tongue. Your mind became preoccupied with this flavor as the elders stood to deliver the story of the Force, of life. You dipped your chin to bow your head, ensuring that you showed the proper amount of respect for both the elders and the story itself.

It had been years since last you had heard the story from the lips of the elders. When on your fifteen birthday you had been given your Assignment, you had learned that you were unfit to enter this building. Dirty. A vessel for life, for disposing sin that would otherwise be embodied in a child. You closed your eyes as you listened to the tale. There was something so lulling in listening to the elders speak with something other than disgust or passive tolerance.

Beside you, Master Ren uttered not a word. You imagined he, too, was listening to the story. Was it one he had heard before, you wondered. _Does Asher enjoy this tale?_ You reopened your eyes to search the room for all children of the appropriate age. Sometimes you imagined Asher as a little girl, while on other occasions the child was male.

When it came to the child who had not made it to birth—Gabe never had a gender in your mind. Gabe was simply Gabe, the one you could have held in the palm of your hand. Your fingers twitched and inched towards the heel of your hand at that thought, as though you were shielding some unseen object you held.

Your eyes ceased their search of the room. Asher could take after the man who had offered his seed in the child’s creation. Perhaps there existed no semblance of your own face.

As he sat there listening to the elder speaking, Master Ren again reached for his glass. He set the rim to his lips without taking so much as a sip. You wondered if he was inhaling the scent of the juice. The smell was, in your opinion, superior to the actual drink. He tilted the cup further, and the wetness slipped along his lips. He ran his tongue along the liquid that threatened to drip away, bringing the entirety of the drink he had taken into his mouth. You flicked your gaze directly ahead of yourself when his eyes turned your way. Perhaps, like most beings in your society, it insulted him that you had stared.

The story came to its end, as did the meal, and those gathered were moved outdoors. A temporary stage had been set on which the Deliverers—the physicians who specialized in births and the primary care of newborns—were set to read the list of names to those born over the past year. This was followed by the three Morticians recounting those whose lives had come to an end. When this list had been completed, all gathered bowed their heads in respect and uttered the words:

“Thank you for your life.”

Any who had gone to the field, be it to tend it or for the purpose of death, were not mentioned. Such was the fate of those who refused to carry out their Assignments for the betterment of society; and the fate of the birthmothers, who carried the sins that were to never be spoken of again.

_Asher is free of guilt,_ you reminded yourself when you mentally shied away from your future. Your name would never be spoken on this stage. It was your duty to carry all that sin to the grave. _My life is sin._ There was no need to be grateful for such an existence.

Master Ren, having opted to stand rather than sit during this ceremony, trailed his thumb across his jawline. There was a smirk of amusement playing on his features. He was a warrior who worked with death; one who could sense it through his connection with the Force. You wondered if he was amused by how little you all understood in comparison. In many respects he was akin to the elders. They were in charge of Assignments. Master Ren also held a role similar to the Upholders of Law. They knew when someone would be sent to the field for failing to work towards the best of the community.

_His life holds such meaning,_ you thought with a renewed sense of awe. Why had he requested you, a mere birthmother, to be his guest?

This question was a repetition within your mind as the night grew. You had been expecting him to grow bored of you, to send you away when the meal and ceremonies were completed. Master Ren, however, had informed the elder who had come to take you from him that you were to join him for a walk. You trailed along silently behind the Force user. There were no playing children amongst whom you could search for the face of Asher; all were tucked into bed by this time, curfew having demanded thus.

“There are places where those who are barren are the outcasts.” You lifted your chin at the sound of his voice and stared at the man. Pursing your lips, you sighed and then asked if he reprimanded them for their ways as well. Master Ren chuckled. “Those who view women as nothing beyond a uterus are of no use to me.”

“How do you mean?”

“When was it decided that you were less of a human than they?” Your mind went blank at his words. Thoughts nudged at the edges of your focus, and yet you could not latch onto a single idea. Master Ren repeated his inquiry, his tone patient. As though he were speaking to a child, as though he were teaching an abstract concept. You shook your head in confusion. His breath left through his nostrils, and his lips curled upwards on one side. A sardonic smirk that soon twisted into an expression that resembled pity. “At one point you were allowed choice. I have seen them—the children. Saying _no_ to one another, to parents as well. Options.

“And those parents—the adult females who are not birthmothers. Why is it considered rape only if they are assaulted?” You started to open your mouth, ready with the argument that it was your _duty_ , when his expression of pity formed in full. Your breath caught in your throat. “I sense your unease, your pain…longing… The Force does grant me clarity, you are correct in that.”

“Please know,” you started in a soft, quiet voice, “that my body responds—“

“Were I to stab you, you would bleed.” Your mouth slammed closed again, and you were once more furrowing your brow. “Were I to tickle you, you would laugh and squirm. Physiological responses mean nothing. Even in death, the body spasms. What is your mind screaming when you are made to lay with a man?”

To utter aloud the single syllable that had a tendency to repeat itself over and over when you were made to lie with a man—such treason was something you could not imagine committing.

“You claim that it is your duty—I have sensed the pride instilled in some of those with the same Assignment. There are many resigned to their fate, willing to allow it to occur. With you… Your despair is palpable. Your silent suffering deafening. While outwardly you claim to accept it, you have not truly done so.” You wrapped your arms around your stomach, holding onto the sides of your robe as you fought to keep standing. “You view yourself as something sordid, as anything but a mother.

“Yet you claim to hold onto the sins that would otherwise belong to your child. Unlike some of the others, you search for the face of that child—you _love_ someone you have never even met. Such odd sentiment. A true mother sacrifices for her child; that is what I was told when I had been young. You… You are perhaps the first to have truly embodied this.”

“I’m not supposed to love,” you said, the words thick in your throat. It felt so hard to breathe. Your windpipe felt as though it were constricting under the weight of your emotions.

Master Ren did not argue this point. He blinked twice and pressed his lips together tightly. You noticed the way his nostrils flared, as though he were in some way frustrated with you. It baffled you. Here he was speaking the words you had thought to yourself so many times, and you found that you could not bear their weight at this volume. It was much easier to endure your role, your Assignment, if you convinced yourself that all your thoughts regarding a _better way_ were childish fantasies. That they held no merit at all. It was simpler to think that you were somehow not a victim of society.

You lashed out anew, doing what you could to keep from accepting that you had truly been wronged, that your hurt was in any way justified. “Your stormtroopers were taken at birth, and—“

“You wish to compare this?” When he spoke, his voice was level, soft. Not a whisper, no. Quiet all the same. And calm, which contrasted with the desperation that you spoke with. “There are incentives in place for those children to be born, this is true. Rape plays no part.” There it was again, that term. You reeled back from it, feeling the tightening in your throat increasing. How could it be rape if you had no choice? As if he could read your mind, Master Ren responded, “You are faced with the choice to lie there and take it, or else go to the field for death. You scramble to cling onto life…

“You somehow endure despite the tourists who romanticize your ability to _choose_ being stripped away. Even those who have an inkling of what you endure, they are privileged. They can walk away at any time. Use your position as a fantasy, because they are not _forced_ to remain. They do not have to face the consequence of death should they choose to utter out that single syllable denied to you: _no_. They, like those who bear the children for our stormtrooper program, are not raped. And you… You cling to the hope that one day you will see the face of your child. You suffer in your silence with the desperate dream that the child is better off without you. That you have taken the burden of sin off their shoulders. Is that not what people beg when they pray to their deities?”

You at last fell to your knees on the ground, clutching your stomach as the first sob wracked your frame. Oh, how you _longed_ to know your child. To see Asher. Master Ren spoke of mothers as though birthmothers and nurturers were the same; in some cases, perhaps they were. But for you, for _your child_ , this was not so. Having grown up with a nurturer whom you loved, how could you _think_ of stripping your child away from such a person? You wanted to. Oh, how you wished you were permitted one selfish choice, one choice at all. Yet, had you been granted such an option, you knew you could not do that. As much as it pained you, as violently as it _tore_ at you, you could not harm your child on such an emotional level. And that is why it hurt to consider his words, to even breathe.

The man was relentless. Though he spoke in a calm voice, his words still dug deeply. “You wish to compare the First Order stormtroopers with the children of your society, with your system. That is foolish. They are never given false hope that their lives will lead one direction before being shoved towards another path. They know from the start that they are soldiers. You—as a child, did you dream?” A silent sob wracked your body. You nodded weakly, bobbing your head without truly realizing that you were answering him at all. “Those were taken away. Your existence is now for the purpose of giving. Ironic— _I_ can take whatever I want. You, on the other hand, give.

“There is a tale of a tree that best describes you. She gives everything to the boy whom she loves. Her leaves for a make-believe crown. Her fruit to feed him. Shade. But time went by. The boy grew, and so the tree was often alone.” You swallowed at the sound of that word. _Alone_. “She gave him all her fruit to sell so that he could have money. Again was the tree alone for some time. When the boy returned, he was again older. She offered her branches for him to build a house for himself and his family.

“The boy remained away. He returned, and she offered her trunk. He cut this down to make a boat, and with this he sailed away. Each time she gave to the boy, she was happy…but not really.

“When years later the boy returned, he was an old man. The tree said she had nothing left to give. She was nothing more than a mere stump. The boy did not want anything at that time. Just a place to rest. And so she straightened as best she could for him to sit, and he did. No longer alone, the tree was happy.”

“If she was happy then—“

“Are you truly happy?” Your words died on your tongue. “And you are not giving to someone you love. Are you seeing joy in return for what you offer the world? I see only contempt. The tree gave of her own choice. She was happy to give to the boy, quite similar to your devotion to the child you search for.”

Your eyes darted around, searching for any who might overhear the conversation. But there was no one. With night having descended in full, those of your community had slipped away into their houses. The tourists were likewise indoors or else headed in that direction. Master Ren crouched in front of you after taking a step closer. You could not meet his gaze; a part of you was wishing he wore that mask of his, the one that had concealed his face when first he had approached you.

You were accustomed to cruelty, not pity.

This man had stated it himself; he was one who could _take_ so freely. Why was he not taking from you? You were willing to give him anything he wanted. That was your job.

He raised one of his hands, covered in that leather glove, to your face. You flinched when it made contact with the side of your face, to portion that was unmasked. Such a touch—so foreign. Your heart seemed to hiccup in your chest, and your mind darted to thoughts of your mother; the nurturer who had cared for you.

When you had been young, you had held onto her hands and swung from her arms as one would from the branches of a tree. She had fed you and given you all that you needed. You had dreamed on someday holding a similar position in your community, of loving a child. Those longings remained though the possibilities of them occurring had been clipped away by the elders of your society, who then used the branches of your lost dream to send you adrift in a sea of despair.

You were terrified of the field. Could what happened to you truly be defined as rape? Lifting a hand, you trailed your fingers along the back of that leather glove. Master Ren hardly moved, his limb twitching the moment yours made contact. Were not you given the choice to avoid unwanted sex—death being the alternative.

_Is that rape?_

You had wondered before, while a man moved atop you, while his teeth bit into the flesh of your breast, if you were justified in wishing you were elsewhere. You understood the methods of your society; you had grown and developed under such influence. On your fifteenth birthday, however, you had started to question it. You would have been willing to have a child, to take the child’s sins, for the greater good—if only you could choose who it was that bed you.

_Was I raped?_

Your body responded to the touches of the men. You grew wet, allowing them to perform more easily.

Physiological responses, your mind said in response, replaying the words Master Ren had spoken.

This man, accustomed to taking, filled with…was it compassion? You had not encountered compassion since you had been given your Assignment. Never before had you been faced with awe directed your way. As though the treasonous longing you had for your child was worthy of praise. How could that be? You questioned it repeatedly, dropping away your hand from his.

Had this man before you chopped down the trunk of his own tree to sail away? You wondered if he would one day return to her, when they would both be happy and neither alone.

Master Ren soon withdrew his hand from you, and he rose once more to stand over you. You lingered close to the ground for several seconds longer prior to following his lead. The pair of you continued on the walk, he two steps in front of you. The trail of tears behind your mask had started to dry, causing your cheeks to feel a little raw.

Aside from the other birthmothers, you were not accustomed to socializing with anyone for a prolonged period. When would this man tire of your presence, you continuously wondered. Ultimately, he appeared to be more content with you than you had realized. Master Ren escorted you to the building in which he and the higher ranked officers of the First Order had been given for their visit. You looked over your shoulder towards where your few belongings—the masks, robes and few linens—were housed.

“It is not my intention to lie with you,” Master Ren said, catching your eye when you turned back to him. Your gaze darted to the door of the building. The last time you had visited anyone in their home was when you had been fifteen and a half. You had returned to the home in which your mother resided for the purpose of assigning your belongings to other families, to children who would need them. She had hardly spoken to you then, save for clipped answers. You were to become birthmother, and so you did not fault her.

This visit was different; not only because the man you were with was a stranger, but also due to the fact that he _wanted_ you near him at all.

The room in which he was staying was bare. It reminded you of your own residence, which had you relaxing your shoulders. Master Ren gestured first towards the bed and then the lone chair that was in the room. _Take your pick,_ the gesture suggested. For the millionth time, your mind seemed to freeze. This time the cogs unstuck themselves more quickly. You shifted over to the chair and lowered yourself onto it. Your host took the other, the man sitting on the edge of the bed. He had his forearms pressed to his knees and his eyes trained on the portion of your face that was covered by a mask.

“Does she no longer love you—the nurturer?”

“One should not love sin,” you said, a phrase you had been made to repeat as you trained to fulfill your role as birthmother.

“I, too, have been made to dirty my hands for the sake of fulfilling my purpose. Yet I _chose_ my path.” Despite knowing what his job entailed, that he played a part in war, it had escaped you that he could be viewed in such a way. “You were stripped bare. From others in your position, I sense resentment towards those capable of freely expressing themselves. With you, there is a longing. There are questions. Yet you do not hate—such a curious thing.” Your eyebrows drew towards one another. “You have compassion towards those who have wronged you.”

“Should I not?”

“Sentiment is the downfall of many,” he said, as though he were changing the subject. His nose wrinkled and his eyes pinched a little as he tilted his head and pursed his lips.

It was a curious thing for him to say; did it not contradict all he had been questioning? Unless he was referring to blind sentiment, those who acted selfishly based on their own emotions rather than what was for the best. The basis of your quandary. You believed, somehow, that a slight change in your society could improve it. Yet you wished to continue with the ways you had grown with—because, surely, you were being influenced by selfishness, by your longing for Asher.

Master Ren pushed off the bed, his hands lifting as he closed the distance between the two of you. You tensed up, your arms twitching yet failing to rise as his hands closed around either side of your mask. He shifted it upwards, inch by inch. Your lungs burned—from the air you were breathing, or were you holding your breath? Blood pulsed in your ears. The world around you felt as though it had started spinning in a different direction. You blinked repeatedly as the mask was drawn above your face completely. He did not stop in his movements until he was able to allow the thing to fall to the floor at your side. You tilted back your head and stared at him with wide eyes.

“They hide your face because it is so much easier to hate a mask. To take, steal, and rape when you are thought to be nothing. A child would be unbiased, would it not? It would look upon you with love—but yours is a loveless Assignment, is it not?”

“It is.”

“Then why are your branches waiting to hold the child?” You drew your arms towards yourself and curled your hands into fists. “The other birthmothers truly have no more branches. They fail to seek out children. They are nearly stumps, waiting their turn to rest in the field. Have you ever seen that field?” You shuddered at the thought of it. “I have seen many. There are some I created.” Your lips parted at the admission of guilt that slipped from the Force user. In your world, sin and righteousness were not allowed to mix. Yet they praised this man’s existence for his connection with the Force. They ignored his acts of violence.

You lifted up your hands in despair, reaching without realizing you were doing so. Master Ren sighed—and stepped into your embrace.


	3. Expanding Worlds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Ren is VERY opinionated. With this fic, there are views I share with him and others I do not. I have been talking with multiple people, as I stated, to get various views. On top of that, I have been looking into Star Wars lore and such regarding Imperial "breeding" programs/the incentives received for supplying children, as well as exploring the stormtrooper program of the First Order.
> 
> Couple that with an extreme view of the elders as well, and there is going to be elements that may make readers uncomfortable. It's part of what took this chapter a little longer to get out.
> 
> Fic rating has been increased to E for future content.

** Mother is God **

_This new Caleb was a replacement child. The couple had lost their first Caleb, a cheerful little Four. Loss of a child was very, very rare. The community was extraordinarily safe, each citizen watchful and protective of all children._

**Chapter Three: Expanding Worlds**

His body bent nearly in half as the man moved into your embrace. Your arms encircled his neck while he busied himself with cradling you, pulling you up into his hold. You had never before been held this way, save perhaps when you had been an infant. You buried your face in the crook of your arm. Again you wondered how he could bear your presence, not to mention to touch you. Master Ren turned on his heel, walked over to his bed, and laid you upon it. Your heart hammered in your chest. There was nothing inappropriate in the way he was handling you—save, of course, for the fact that you were a birthmother and deserved none of it at all. He pulled down the bed sheets and tucked you in.

When he climbed onto the other side of the bed, you found that you were waiting. Then you furrowed your brow, lifting your hand to your face and recalling that he had removed your mask. You remembered the multiple times he had informed you and the elder that he had no intention to lie with you; not for the purpose of impregnating you. You half-turned in order to look over your shoulder at him. His back was to you. The honored guest of your society was seated on the edge of the bed, tugging off some of the layers of his clothing. His arms were bared to the light breeze of the room. Not that his torso was naked, for the man wore a sleeveless shirt. He tugged off the robes and remained in his pants and socks. Master Ren at last slipped under the covers as well, however there remained an extra layer of blanket under which he did not press. This created a barrier between your body and his.

Air puffed out of your lungs through slightly parted lips. You twisted again, this time to stare in the direction of the window on the opposite side of the room. _Is this how the nurturers lie with one another?_ You could not remember what the inside of your mother and father’s room had looked like. Had there been a single bed or two?

It was Master Ren who first lost consciousness after he reached above the headboard and hit the light switch. You heard him shift in his sleep. The foreign sensation of breath upon the back of your neck alerted you to the fact that he was facing you. You turned. Your heart was once more racing as you were filled with a renewed sense of wonder. Even in the darkness you could see how youthful he appeared. What age had he been when his Assignment…when he had chosen his role in life?

What a strange idea, this concept that one could appropriately dictate where in life they were headed. You were not ignorant in that you had always been vaguely aware this was how the tourists were. But they, to you, had never held important roles in society, and thus there could be no harm.

This man whom you were watching had watered the seeds of doubt that had been planted in your head when you had been given your Assignment at the age of fifteen. You reached down and tugged the blankets further up his body so that his shoulders were covered. Upon realizing what you had done, you froze. Your entire body tensed. Your mother had acted this way with you—a nurturer’s place, not for a birthmother to do.

You moved so that your back was once more facing him. This time you closed your eyes, and kept them closed until sleep overtook you.

Various portions of your dream you would never remember; such is the way of things. Yet you could recall, when you awoke, vague details of scenes here and there. It called to mind the dreams you had had as a child when you had first learned of the role of birthmother. The idea of another mother out there—one comprised of sin. In this dream as well you were a child, laughing and running about with not a care in the world. A glowing light from a doorframe then caught your eye.

Ever curious, you skipped over to the door, which opened of its own accord. Through it was a new world. Rather than the color you were accustomed to seeing, the shades were different. Gray tints, dimming the various hues of objects and people around you. And there _she_ was. The Other Mother, the birthmother, with her mask. In your dream, as always, she did not have eyes. There were only black holes that could be seen in the slits of the mask. She reached towards you with promises that all would be well with her.

Initially you believed the woman, who handed you sweets and spoiled you. All things that would rot you to your core, the selfishness of not growing into a position of responsibility. It was when you attempted to leave that this truth dawned upon you. The Other Mother shoved her body in front of the door, her arms outstretched. She laughed, a hollow sound, and gave you a _tut tut_ of disapproval. You were to stay there with her, to ease her burden of sin by taking on some of it for yourself.

When you did awaken, you had the beginnings of tears forming in the corners of your eyes. You wiped at them, blankly searching the room. There was something different, though you could not place your finger on it.

That is, until you raised your torso and caught sight of your host. His lips were pursed forward, his eyebrows drawn towards one another. He was not wearing his robes still, although he had put on an overshirt to cover his arms. Said limbs were wrapped around a small child. Master Ren cupped the back of the child’s head with one hand, the other supporting the rear. He bounced the child a little, as though not exactly sure if he was executing the movements correctly. You wanted to say that the child was close to a year and a half. Not quite two, that much you knew.

Ren’s brown eyes darted to you. Your gaze was torn between him and the child. “Wh…a…t?”

Bubbles of spit formed around the child’s mouth. Master Ren looked towards the door. “I was informed once more how… _precious_ my seed is,” he said, his expression altering into one of amusement. “The elder left only when I requested to see one of the children.” You shook your head, not understanding. “You do not know the reason behind my presence, do you?”

“No, Master Ren. It is not my place.” His response was a light hum. The child had reached forward and grabbed hold of the front of his shirt. You were not certain of the gender. The Force user did not respond when the child leaned forward, placing its open mouth on the man’s cheek. You could see drool pooling on the man’s flesh. Such control, you thought.

“This is preferable to the elders.”

“They mean well,” you insisted kindly. Master Ren twisted, once more bouncing the child. You slipped out of the bed, kept your eyes on the floor, and entered the refresher. When passing the mirror, you closed your eyes to prevent yourself from seeing any reflection. How long had it been? True, you caught glimpses here and there in reflective surfaces. Yet you typically had a mask on during those occasions. This time your face was bare. You used the toilet, washed your hands, and returned to the room.

You were still in the robes from the previous night, and there was nothing new for you to change into. You wondered what the elder had thought of your presence in the man’s room.

“There is a flaw in your society. Birthmothers selected, and any who wish to lie with them are allowed. Though they are set to birth three children… Have you not noticed the increase in your population? Perversion. No consequences when it comes to forcing oneself upon the birthmothers. The elderly thriving. One option would be to send the elders to the field to perish—yet it is the elders who run your society. They cannot have that.

“The alternative, therefore, is to find a new means to prepare the newchildren for life. When the elders learned of the way the stormtrooper program worked, they requested to participate. I was the closest individual to the planet, and my curiosity was piqued. Such a high number of volunteers—why was this? Rape. Glorified rape. As if the First Order should associate with such a society. What ammunition it would give our enemy against us.”

You could feel heat seeping into your being. A large part of you wished to protest what the man was saying. At the same time, you were conflicted. What if one of your children were taken for the stormtrooper program? You thought of Asher, of Gabe. Your eyes traveled over to the child that was in Master Ren’s arms.

“Your elders desire the credits that are one incentive for our program. They want us to pay, which the First Order is not opposed to doing… But you—a further excuse to use your body, those of the birthmothers. To increase the number of birthmothers. To ravage you all without a second thought. We would be a mere john, wouldn’t we?” He paused, a strange sort of strangled sound escaping him. The child in his arms rested its head on his shoulder. “Your expression—you are troubled. As though you are opposed to the program entirely.”

“I don’t… I don’t think it is as perfect as you make it out to be. I have seen the numbers of stormtroopers here alone.” You licked your lips, wetting them. “You say they are all acquired, not stolen?”

Master Ren met your gaze in full, and you saw the answers in his eyes. Take from parents in some cases—yet how could protest when the same thing occurred in _your_ society? No, no, your mind screamed. Birthmothers were… You were…

“War is not ideal,” the honored guest of your society said. It was as though the conversation was ended on that note, perhaps by his will. The enforcers in your community were selected; albeit at an older age than the stormtroopers, they received no choice in the matter as well. It was too complicated and, in some ways, horrific for you to think about.

Whichever elder had spoken with Master Ren while you had been sleeping had likely been under the impression that the Force user was reconsidering the use of the newchildren that came from your society when he had requested a child be brought to him. You found the request to be deceptive. He was using the child for his own selfish reasons, to avoid speaking with the elders. You glowered at the man, and then reeled back; this same child would have been sent away to enter the stormtrooper program. This would have been sanctioned by the elders.

Were the stormtroopers happy with their lives? You could not recall hearing a single one of them complaining. Perhaps, in that respect, you and they were alike.

A knock on the door to the room had your attention returning to the present. You rushed towards the small table that was a foot away from Master Ren; on its surface was your mask. You had it pressed to your features when the door began to open. Elders Falcron and Ortiza entered. The female elder dipped her head in greeting to the honored guest. She stepped over to him, her arms extended towards the child he held. A little boy, you learned when she asked for him. Master Ren passed the boy to the elder though his gaze was on you and Elder Falcron; the male elder had in his arms a fresh set of robes and your everyday mask.

You were dismissed into the refresher for the purpose of giving changing. Your dirtied clothes you placed into a bag, drew the string, and held it loosely in your hands. Elder Ortiza had exited the room by that point. Elder Falcron was speaking to Master Ren in whispered words. You judged the topic of conversation by the manner in which Master Ren was clenching his jaw.

It was not your place to question the elders or Master Ren. Your position in life dictated that you—you trailed one of your fingers along the outside of your thigh. It would be time for your injection. You gave a small bow of respect to the pair, verbally excusing yourself and heading out the door. You could feel Master Ren’s eyes on you. All the words he had spoken to you over the course of the last twenty-four hours ran through your head. You hoped that an agreeable outcome could be had for both parties.

You dropped your dirty clothes off at the appropriate facility before visiting the physician for your injection. A number of the tourists were leaving the planet, or else journeying to a different community. You hardly understood it, the way they came to see the celebrations. Their leaving allowed the stormtroopers and First Order officers to become all the more noticeable.

The stormtroopers did not speak to you as you passed them by. A few of the officers acted similarly, while others offered clipped greetings. These you awkwardly returned. It was overwhelming in a way. Taxing. They were attempting to be polite in their own way. Ignorant of your ways—or perhaps they, like Master Ren, did not fully care.

As you did most days, you went to the community hut of birthmothers. There was a small garden behind the hut filled with flower bushes. Another means to mask the scent of sin. You allowed your gaze to travel about the main room. Before Master Ren’s statement, you had not noticed the increase in the number of birthmothers. The newer faces there. When you had been younger, there had been less children than there now were.

_How are they—we—selected?_

You had asked this in the past, however you had not dwelled on the question as you now were. Glorified rape, Master Ren had called it. You felt your hand twitch. It was a strain to keep your arm down at your side, to not cover your mouth. Elder Falcron’s urging that you did not allow Master Ren to waste his seed on you was not unwarranted. Gabe. You leaned your back against the nearest wall. Gabe had been the result of when Elder Falcron had volunteered to lie with you.

For the first time ever, you were looking at the various swollen bellies whilst wondering if any of the birthmothers had also been made to lie with Elder Falcron. Was that how the birthmothers were selected? To prevent children of incest? The elders would know the blood relatives of each child born. They needed to keep the community strong.

One of the newest birthmothers caught your eye. She was not yet pregnant. You knew that she had not been made to lie with a man; she was too young. Seventeen years old. Her eighteenth birthday was soon in coming. You could not understand your own emotions, the way you suddenly felt so… so _protective_ of this young woman.

It was not that you disagreed with the role of birthmother; in some respects, you wondered if Master Ren also supported some aspects of the role. If his bias against it truly was derived from his view that the role had been in some way perverted or taken advantage of…

The term repeated itself in your head again: glorified rape.

Master Ren had spoken of incentives to birth children. A sort of program, if you will, that was in essence much like the role of birthmother. Were the women there allowed to reject offers of men lying with them? What if a woman became too picky and never fulfilled her role as birthmother?

Your thoughts left the young woman to instead wander over to Asher. You could hardly imagine never having given birth to your child. Ah, how you longed to see Asher. To know that the child was content, as you had been, with the nurturer that was selected to raise Asher. And what of a name? You knew not what name had been given to your child in an official respect.

You nearly blanched; _your_ child. It was horrid to think such a thing. If you ever spoke the phrase aloud, you would be sent to the field. The child was not yours, not in the eyes of your community. You were birthmother. It was not your place to have a family.

The nurturer who had cared for you, whom you had referred to as mother, was no longer considered family if one asked the elders. They were severed from the sin that was your existence.

 _When was it decided that it was sin?_ The following moment you chastised yourself for falling further and further into such a state. If you were to rebel completely, you would have no means to protect those you cared for. You could continue your silent resistance without harming those around you. Should you become vocal, however, the other birthmothers would also suffer.

For the remainder of the day, you managed to hold your tongue. The First Order had more ships land on your planet; these you could hear. The engines were different than the ships the tourists traveled on. You stepped out of the birthmother community building at the end of the day. Alone, as always. Birthmothers were allowed to socialize while in the community building. Otherwise they were to remain silent, which meant distancing from one another.

You looked in the direction of the new shuttles. Another stormtrooper transport, as well as another. Officers—you now understood why there appeared to be more of them. They were not what held your attention, however. It was the reflective surface of a chrome-armored stormtrooper that captured your gaze. You paused in your steps.

Master Ren had exited his building and was in the process of crossing the ground to head for the strange stormtrooper’s position. “Captain Phasma,” you heard him say in greeting. You nearly jumped at the sound of a female responding with the simple utterance of _sir_. “Your presence may be unnecessary.”

“General Hux believes this to be a salvageable situation, sir.” This response was rewarded with a dark, metallic chuckle from the Force user.

You whipped your gaze away from the pair and resumed walking in the direction of your home. The nurturers and children who had not yet retired for the night also paid some attention to the newcomers. You searched again for the face of Asher, a face you had never seen. Regardless of what Master Ren _thought_ , you would _never_ stop looking. Perhaps you could not assume the role of nurturer with the child, but that child… Asher was, in some way, yours.

In under an hour of you readying yourself for bed, you learned that you would be entertaining visitors. Master Ren and the mysterious Captain Phasma considered your living arrangement with a sense of passivity. You knelt before them as you had been taught to do, as you had done the first time Master Ren had approached you.

“Stand,” the man said without looking at you. You slipped back up into a standing position. “Like a child who has been shown a glimpse of the world after spending the entirety of its life within a single room.” You observed him from behind your mask. “There are some who wish to proceed with using the birthmothers to supply stormtrooper trainees. The First Order will take control—spare the elders your compassion. Remain with her.”

“Affirmative, sir,” Captain Phasma said. Your eyes widened as realization dawned upon you. Though you had questioned your society, the elders as well, this was not what you wanted either.

“Master Ren—“

“Shh.” He raised a hand as he stepped to your side. His fingers met the side of your face, and you instantly quieted. “The birthmothers shall be given the choice, something the elders would not stand for. The First Order requires stormtroopers, and the parties supplying them will be compensated. Your elders mean nothing to us.”


	4. Precision of Language

** Mother is God **

_Poor Asher, who always talked too fast and mixed up words, even as a toddler. As a Three, eager for his juice and crackers at snacktime, he one day said “smack” instead of “snack” as he stood waiting in line for the morning treat._

_[…]But the mistake had been made. And precision of language was one of the most important tasks of small children. Asher had asked for a smack._

_The discipline wand, in the hand of the Childcare worker, whistled as it came down across Asher’s hands. Asher whimpered, cringed, and corrected himself instantly. “Snack,” he whispered._

**Chapter Four: Precision of Language**

You stared after the honored guest of your community as he retreated from your home. His comrade, Captain Phasma, remained behind as he had instructed her to. It was her presence that prevented you from rushing forth, from seizing the Force user’s robes or sleeves and begging him to spare the elders. The chrome-armored stormtrooper took a step to the side, her gaze never leaving you. You took a step closer to the door. She likely was aware that you were _not_ making a move to leave, for Captain Phasma did not react.

Would the elders be slaughtered, you wondered, or taken captive? Perhaps enslaved.

Despite the fatigue that had previously led you to preparing for bed, you were unable to return to the room for the purpose of sleeping. You instead sunk to the floor and once more knelt. Your gaze was trained on the door. When would he return? You were waiting for screams of pain or shouts of indignation, the rising cataclysm. Should the Force user’s intentions be to overthrow the elders, he would be the one whom you would answer, would he not? You felt hopelessly lost. All the doubt that he had watered and nurtured, all of it growing within you—and yet you still attempted to cling to the familiarity of the past.

Retaliation on the parts of the elders could result in the destruction of your community by the First Order. Would you all be sent to the field?

As you waited for the masked man’s return, you surely lost consciousness for you found yourself blinking open your eyes at the sound of the front door opening. You drew your legs up towards your stomach, bending your knees. The footfalls were heavy. This made sense to you; Master Ren wore boots. “She remained in place,” you heard him say, his mask distorting his voice, deepening it. Captain Phasma answered in affirmation. Master Ren grunted in response to this. “And the elder?”

“I stunned her when I heard him approaching.” You furrowed your brow; you could not recall her having fired her weapon, and yet she had admitted to doing so. “He wished to speak with her.”

“His intentions are to have her seduce me—he is grasping at straws to remain in control.” The coup d’etat, it seemed, was not to be hostile in nature. It would be calculating. That stood to reason if the intentions of the First Order was to appear welcoming. This did not mean that the elimination of key members of the elders would not take place. You imagined it was Elder Falcron of whom the two were speaking. Having observed your interactions with Master Ren, the amiable nature of them and the manner in which you intrigued the Force user, the elder undoubtedly plotted to have you present yourself.

You lifted your torso and stared down at your feet. _Should I offer myself to him?_ It was the will of the elders. And though you had questioned them, you had also followed them your whole life. Why should you change the course of things because one man had looked at you as though you amounted to something more than the existence of sin?

When you moved to straighten further, you instead contorted, your facial features scrunching as you hissed in discomfort. At the base of your spine there was a tingling sensation that crawled up your back; in its center a searing pain made itself known. This was where you had been shot by the chrome-armored woman’s blaster. Both she and the dark robed man looked your way. Master Ren shifted a single leg closer to your direction prior to taking a full step. You averted your gaze; it felt as though the mask you wore was not enough to hide your shame—birthmothers were not to require help as you were.

Rather than reaching for you, however the Force user stopped short. Simultaneous to him pausing near you, Captain Phasma began to walk in the direction of the door. You heard her exit your home, though her footsteps did not continue further.

Master Ren did not bother to look your way as he tilted his head to the side and spoke. “Females have their assignments chosen between the ages of eleven and thirteen. Puberty.” A derisive snort. “Should a man who is not related closely by blood inform the elders that he would lie with the girl once she is of age, that he would impregnate her, then she is selected as birthmother. Lust. Allowing lust to pervert society—your child, should it be female, faces the possibility of being lusted after by one far beyond her years; should your child be male, perhaps he would be such a predator.”

Your mouth dried at the idea that your child was potentially like Elder Falcron, the man who would offer your body at a whim to this stranger—all for the sake of preserving his position of authority. You gagged when the full weight of Master Ren’s words crushed you; that if Asher was a girl, there was the likelihood in less than a decade she would be sexualized in the eyes of man. And here you were, sitting on the floor and considering entertaining Elder Falcron’s apparent need for control.

The darkly robed man lifted a single arm, his fingers half-curled towards his palm, which faced your direction. You stared at the limb with wide eyes. A gasp was torn from your lungs when he whipped his hand to the side and your mask was ripped from your face, albeit not painfully. Witnessing the power of the Force rendered you motionless.

“I saw a face quite like yours tonight.” As though breathing were not already a laborious task for you, you now felt as though your lungs had filled with water. You swayed. Had you been standing, you would have collapsed to your knees. “The one you have searched for all these years…”

“…h…appy?” You closed your mouth, sucked on nothing to gather saliva, and tried anew: “Is my child happy?”

“Your child’s role has already been selected. Such a young age…” Your limb raised as of its own accord, your hand covering your mouth. Master Ren’s visor did not abandon you; he observed your shock in full. “One of the few roles that are filled infrequently. Chief of Law. The representative of your community, a key figurehead.”

Protocol for the Chief of Law was for the child selected for the role to be isolated from the general community. The child, who could be of either gender, observed the entire community via holovids; this much you were aware of due to the general education provided to all children. The child would interact with elders and select peers, all the while they would learn the laws that governed your society. It was why you had not seen the face of your child despite searching for years.

“The child has no nurturer. It takes a village.” Master Ren released a dark chuckle. “A child leader has not been in a position of power for a number of generations. What occurs when this is so?”

“I…” Your mind felt as though it were a blank sheet of paper upon which you were searching for coherent sentences. You dropped your hand away from your mouth. Shortly before you had reached the age of puberty, your studies had included a brief history of the leaders of your society, both past and present. There had been a handful of situations in which the old Chief of Law had passed away prior to their successor reaching age. The role was still given to the child, however— “A Speaker of Memory. That is what it is referred to. The Speaker of Memory is one of the chief teachers of the child. They communicate with the child while considering the past decisions of the previous Chief of Law.”

“The child indeed holds power.” You nodded, murmuring _Along with the Speaker of Memory._ “Your child will soon hold power.”

“You… You mean to kill the—“

“His reluctance to accept new guidelines has allowed for no other option.”

It seemed your assessment of a non-hostile takeover was not entirely correct. This thought flashed through your mind, which quickly returned to the fact that your child would then be left to face this man.

This man cared nothing for the elders of your society; did that extend to your child?

Your mandible and maxilla worked against one another, your nostrils flaring. Tilting back your head, you stared up at him. You would kill for the child you had never met—you would die trying. As though he were capable of reading your thoughts, Master Ren’s boots slipped forward twice. Your fingertips scraped along the flooring. Tensing caused the pain to radiate once more. Thus you were wincing, your face scrunched, when the Force user bent down long enough to scoop you into his arms. Your stomach felt as though it swooped as he lifted you.

Master Ren allowed the silence to continue to permeate the air; it was thick enough that you could practically feel it choking you. He set you upon your bed prior to turning so that his back was to you. It was only then that Master Ren moved to remove his helmet. The need to protect your child arose in you anew. You smoothed down your hair, laid your head upon your pillow, and began to adjust your clothing accordingly. At the sound of shifting material, the Force user twisted around to face you. He tilted his head partway to the right. You could not read his expression.

“In exchange for my child’s safety—“

A puff of air escaped through his nostrils. Master Ren curved his body towards the left. “If I were to request oral sex?”

“Sex with words?” you asked, knitting your brow; it was such a foreign concept to you.

His smile was neither derisive nor sympathetic. It was akin to the sort of grin exchanged amongst family members who were well acquainted and knew the limitations of one another.

“I will not be taking advantage of you,” he said.

You shook your head. “Word sex does not seem so daunting a task.” While you were speaking, Master Ren had begun to walk closer to you. He paused at the edge of the bed in order to remove his boots as well as the outer layer of his robes. You wondered if it was customary to strip for oral sex. Perhaps the focus was to describe one another’s bodies with endearing terminology.

Master Ren climbed atop the bed and crawled to you. Your eyes widened with every move he made. The muscles in his arms were more than visible to you, and you could not help but recall had they looked when bare. The man positioned himself beside you, lying down so that he could face you. His mouth shifted closer to yours, those plump lips puckering and pressing directly between your cheek and lips—the very corner of your mouth. It was a brief kiss that had you wondering if the tingling was nothing more than a phantom sensation.

“Oral sex is where you use your mouth to pleasure the other.” You blinked repeatedly, his words slowly unraveling to where the true meaning was revealed to you.

Immediately you were shaking your head. “But that would waste your seed.” His hand met his face, and Master Ren massaged the bridge of his nose. “The purpose of lying with another is to procreate, Master Ren. In order for that to occur, you would need to insert your—“

“Kriff,” he hissed. You seized your bottom lip, confused as to why he was reacting this way. “You’re rather technical. Were oral sex simply _word_ sex, I doubt you would grasp the concept.”

You flinched at this cruel remark. Not backing down, however, you pressed onward, accepting the challenge. “I would lie on my back while you climbed atop me.” Master Ren removed his hand from his face, his eyes searching your countenance. Emboldened by the attention, you nodded. “You would move inside of me—maybe fifteen times, and—“

“Are you so tight that you would make me cum that quickly?” You felt your cheeks heating up, blood pooling into them. Lowering your eyes, you found that your resolve had ebbed. Master Ren made a sort of clicking noise before speaking again. “I would climb atop you, spreading those legs of yours, and press against you—enough to where you could feel how hard you were making me.” Your heart hammered in your chest. The heat in your face increased, multiplying and spreading through your body. “I would not move inside of you immediately. I’d want to taste you first.”

“You’d bite me?” you asked incredulously, the heat dimming. Master Ren’s lips were parted though no words were escaping him any longer. You remembered _his_ explanation of oral sex, and your lips puckered forward in a pout. “I… I must disappoint you.”

“No,” he said without hesitation. “You need not fear for your child. I would eliminate the Speaker of Memory. Children are capable of learning; your child will be the first in the new era of this alliance between your community and the First Order.”

You closed your eyes, attempting to picture the face you had not yet seen. With this revelation, you knew it was inevitable. You would at last see your child. Your search would come to an end. Yet somehow it only made your heart ache. The Chief of Law was not to know love, which would create bias. They would know a semblance of affection so as to not be entirely cold or indifferent to the community. More than anything, you wished to hold your child, to show them love; because you _did_ love your child.


	5. With a Teacher

** Mother is God **

_For a moment he froze, consumed with despair. He **didn’t** have it, the whatever-she-had-said. He didn’t know what it was. Now was the moment when he would have to confess, to say, “No, I don’t. I **can’t** ,” and throw himself on their mercy, ask their forgiveness, to explain that he had been wrongly chosen, that he was not the right one at all._

**Chapter Five: With a Teacher**

The presence of Master Ren continued to bring forth an accumulation of new experiences for you. Upon awakening, this time you discovered that he remained in the bed with you. You lowered your gaze to the center of the bed, upon which was balanced a tray. Master Ren had a book in his lap, however it remained unopened. You blinked twice. Had he finished his reading? You knew now why he had the book—its cover revealed that it was a collection of children’s tales. He slipped the collection over to you, his voice passive as he explained that it would be _your_ job to console the child—your child—when the current Chief of Law was eliminated.

“My child… The child… I am certain they are a stranger to affection.”

“Which is why you shall read of the field; they child will find the term familiar. As you stated, the child has been raised to be detached. Factual. Your presence is to prevent confusion.”

You cradled the bound volume, staring at it and wondering why he believed you would be capable of carrying out the acts he desired of you. You were no nurturer. Not that you did not have your own memories of being cared for. Still, you had been cared for differently than this child had been. You lifted a single hand from the book and placed the limb over your heart. Your head felt as though it were spinning. You would be meeting your child.

“A strange coincidence that _you_ were the one to draw my attention,” Master Ren drawled. You raised your gaze to him. He was not looking your way. When he had first mentioned your child, you had begun to believe that he had known ahead of time. Why else would he have homed in on you? Now you were left wondering _why_. You were of no importance.

Past conversations drifted into your mind; Master Ren had mentioned being able to sense your silent disagreements with the elders. The way you wished for a different life—to have a choice. Yet was he even giving you one? Your child, whom you wanted more than anything to meet. There was only one choice for you.

“I will calm the child, though please be patient, Master Ren.” Children could be unpredictable. Despite your blood relation, you had no connection with the child; a child who would likely shy away from tenderness. The honored guest-turned-enemy of the elders displayed a sardonic smirk in response to your words. Your chest felt suddenly tight. He was treating you like he would any other human. A freethinking woman. You attempted to tell yourself that this was how you should have been treated all along, however the elder’s words and treatments of you that were so ingrained from their years of being pressed upon you demanded that you correct the man. You were torn with the urge to remind Master Ren that you were not worthy.

“You’re a curious contradiction,” the man whispered before you could say anything at all. “You have experienced sex, however are completely inexperienced. Desire free will yet shy away from it.” Master Ren was mere inches from you. He ran the back of his knuckles along the side of your face. Not sentimental—experimental. His eyes were roaming along your features in a manner that allowed you to know he was gauging your reactions.

“I am not a child, Master Ren,” you whispered in response. The knuckles pulled away from you a fraction of an inch so that they no longer met your flesh. “You think less of me because I am ignorant of many things, of societies outside of mine. Not everyone has the luxury of traveling as you do. Not everyone is a destroyer of worlds as you are.”

“I create the fields of death—and you would tend to them,” he said passively. You grit your teeth whilst averting your gaze. It was difficult to discern what he was attempting to say to you. Perhaps he was simply teasing you yet again. “You worry that I will destroy a culture that has destroyed you?” the man pressed when several seconds had elapsed.

You turned back to him in full. Lifting your chin defiantly, you smacked his wrist and thus furthered the distance between his hand and your face. His jaw twitched, however he had no other outward reaction. Your hands busied themselves with removing your clothing. Master Ren did not glance down a single time as you stripped completely. You had been naked in the presence of men before. Of course, during those past experiences, you had worn a mask and not truly seen the man.

Your gaze was locked with his, each of you challenging the other. You daring him to look down. He daring you to—look away in shame, perhaps. To him, your nakedness was likely more erotic than it was for you. For you, it was nothing special. Just a body, a vessel for life. You were the embodiment of sin, and what your nakedness could lead to was the _only_ thing that had been worth anything. Why should it shame you?

It was being naked that had led to Asher’s—and even Gabe’s—conception. Master Ren wanted to control Asher, or else to work with Asher.

“The elders were the ones to control me, to control Asher.”

“Asher—that is what you call the child?” he said. Your eyes widened as you realized your mistake. A name you had never before uttered in another’s presence. “You named the child when it was still in your womb. Was that your first act of defiance?”

“You believe that you can control me?” you asked, attempting to keep up your bravado though your voice trembled. “I will do what I can for my child, and yet…”

“You need not fight me,” Master Ren said. He kept his voice soft as though he were attempting to soothe you. The man still had not yet looked down. You were naked, however he was not taking in your body as so many men had done. It left you at such a loss. How were you to react to him?

With the other men, your mind supplied, you had waited whilst lying down. Seizing your bottom lip with your teeth, you shifted backwards until you were able to lie upon the bed. His eyes moved to keep your eyes in sight, his gaze unwavering. The intensity with which he stared at you, however, showed just how tempted he was. His chest, which you could see at the edge of your vision, rose and fell heavily. He could likely see portions of your naked form. Which was a probable reason as to why he took a step forward, in order to see less and thus not lose this battle of wills.

“Most men would mistake this act as submission,” he drawled. You knit your brow and released your bottom lip. “You think to prove that you are not ignorant—yet I would easily show you _just_ how little you knew if I partook—”

“So teach me then,” you said, snarling at first only to have your voice grow softer nearer to the end. You broke your gaze away from him. Submission. “You say having a choice is so much better. I wouldn’t know.”

“Are you truly choosing this?” Master Ren asked. You swallowed thickly, weighing his words. A single nod from you, and the man began to remove the first layer of his outfit. You could not look his way; still, you caught glimpses of his flesh in your peripheral. “You are allowed to push me away—do not forget this.”

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes. It caused the man pause, however he recovered quickly. Devoid of clothing, Master Ren climbed onto the bed with you, his hands on your knees, pushing your legs apart. You felt so naked without your mask. One of his hands left your knee, the limb reaching for your wrist. He drew your hand to his chest, and you set your palm flat against him. Your breath hitched, a sort of soft gasp. His fingers ghosted over the back of your hand, down the entire length of your arm as Master Ren bent forward. His pelvis crushed into yours; his cock was already hard, and you felt your body respond as it had been trained to do.

At the feeling of your wetness, he stilled. Heat again seeped into your cheeks; you were starting to feel ashamed. “Shh,” he whispered, his lips drawing nearer to yours. “Would you like to learn?”

“Of…oral sex?” you asked timidly, recalling the phrase from earlier. His lips twisted into a smirk. You felt your toes curling from that alone, the promise behind the expression.

Master Ren’s tongue flicked out, tracing along your tips then venturing downwards—further and further, the underside of the organ teasing its way down your body until it was directly below your belly button. He opened his mouth, setting it against your flesh, nipping and suckling at you. You bucked your hips. Your toes gripped the sheets, wrinkling them; your juices were sliding down, dripping onto the mattress. The hand that had previously been on his chest was now on the back of his head, your fingers entangled in his hair; its twin was pressed on the mattress.

“No one has done this to you before,” he purred between nips and kisses. “You’re going to cum for me—I’ll teach you true pleasure.”

“Oh!” When he tilted his head to look up at you, his chin bumped your clitoris. Instantly he opened his mouth, enveloping the flesh in front of him. With open-mouthed kisses he made his way to your cunt. Your body spasmed at the first swipe of his tongue on your inner lips. You could feel him puckering his lips then heard him slurping—he had mentioned wanting to taste you, you remembered. A swear. Master Ren flattened his tongue against you, swiping it upwards whilst curling it, drawing your juices into his mouth. He flicked his tongue in and out of his mouth in rapid succession. You trembled, continuing to hold onto the back of his head with one hand and biting down on the knuckle of a finger on your other hand.

Tears were continuing to gather in your eyes. Of pleasure. Of terror. You did not know how to handle this new sensation; you had thought your body had reacted in the past—it _had_ reacted to the touches of others, however never like this. Your entire body was thrumming, your head pounding and your inner walls clenching and unclenching.

“Not ready,” you whimpered. His tongue paused immediately, the pink organ halfway between his mouth and your cunt. Master Ren pulled his tongue back into his mouth completely as he climbed up your body. You could not bear to meet his gaze. The formed tears were slipping down the sides of your face onto the bed below. Your body ached with the want for release. Yet you remained utterly terrified of it. Furthermore, you were shaken by the fact that he had listened. He had stopped, something that had never happened before. You had been listened to, your words heeded. “What is… It’s so much.”

“Have you never been brought to orgasm?” he asked, patient as ever.

You shook your head, panting and breathless. “I don’t know.” He hummed, the man looking down your body. Master Ren asked if you wished to cum, and you blinked twice. “I…don’t know.” Your voice was so weak even to your own ears.

Bracing himself on his forearms, Master Ren pressed upwards so that his chest did not touch yours as he hovered above you. Even if your vision had not been obscured by tears, you would have found his expression difficult to read.

You were _not_ supposed to enjoy the act of conceiving a child. The men who offered to lie with you enjoyed themselves, meanwhile _you_ were to hold in all the sin. There was no joy in sin.

Yet the man you were currently with was informing you of ways to change your life, your world. If you were too terrified to allow yourself pleasure, would you be too afraid to protect your child? To fulfill the role of nurturer; or, if not nurturer, then some place of importance in Asher’s life? There was the chance you were not strong enough, that you would fail. Master Ren had claimed that you being the birthmother he was drawn to was all coincidence. Perhaps he had chosen wrong. Master Ren may have made a mistake.

“It will be a new world,” the man above you said, his voice still low. “You will learn to adapt. The First Order is understanding. My mission is to ensure success—I will teach you.”

“And then I will no longer be allowed to tell _you_ ‘no’,” you said, a sob wracking your frame. The words were out of your mouth before you fully had a chance to think on them. They echoed in the room, in your ears. “Is there truly a difference?”

“Rape is not condoned. I will not rape you.” His brown eyes roamed along your face, settling on your lips. “I had no desire to lie with you until it was _your_ choice. This will not change.” Master Ren cupped your breast, palming the mound and gauging your reaction. You hiccupped, but did not pull away nor protest in any way. You were too busy watching him, weighing the sincerity of his words.

He had been the first one to listen to you in quite some time. You trusted him more than those in your society. Recalling how he had looked at you with such awe rather than revulsion, you reached up to cup his cheeks. His mouth crashed atop yours. For the first time, he was demanding. Not exactly like those in your past; he relented and sought to please _you_ with light caresses. Fleeting touches until you would gasp or moan against his mouth. No one had ever before kissed you like this. It had always been raw and carnal. Animalistic. As though you were nothing more than a slab of meat—was that not what they had led you to believe?

Shuddering, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled back enough to utter out the request: “Teach me? Can you…make me…” His tongue roamed his lips, his eyes afire as he stared down at you with a burning passion. “Please, Master Ren.”

For a second time he trailed sloppy kisses down the length of your body. His tongue slicked your flesh up with saliva, which the air cooled with every light breeze. Goosebumps pimpled on your flesh. You were dripping before he made it to your belly. His hands were on your hips, holding them down as he buried his face into your cunt. His groans made him sound absolutely _desperate_ for you.

This honored guest of your society wanted you. _Just a birthmother,_ a small, timid voice said. It was drowned out by his moan, by the way he slurped at you. You turned your head from one side to the other. Gasping and blinking repeatedly as you felt the dam building. More thrumming. Your vaginal walls pulsing, tugging at his tongue, at his finger—two fingers. His tongue drew circles around your clitoris, teasing close to it but never quite touching it. You practically screamed as the dam broke. Your vision blurred, blood pulsing in your ears and your head feeling blissfully foggy.

It did not feel as though you were a part of this world. Master Ren’s touches were there yet not. His lips felt extra soft when they met yours. You returned his kisses without realizing you were doing so until you came down from the high you had achieved through your orgasm.

He moved up into you. _One._ A wet kiss on your chin. _Two._ Master Ren’s mouth found your throat, which he sucked. _Three._ His tongue once more swirling. _Four._

You entangled your fingers in his hair. _Five._ Tugged, earning a grunt. _Six._ Master Ren pinched your nipples, released them, ran the pads of his thumbs across their very tips, and then pinched again. _Seven, eight, nine._

“Oh! Oh, Maker,” you gasped, arching. He pressed his hips harder into yours. _Ten, eleven._ The sound of flesh smacking wetly into flesh. _Twelve._ The dam was building again. Master Ren angled his body so that he brushed against your clit. _Thirteen. Fourteen._ You shuddered. “Fifteen.”

“Mmm—and I haven’t cum yet,” he teased, the man knowing exactly why you had been counting. “So tight. So wet.” You stared up at him with your mouth agape. “Such a waste to hide this face with a mask. That expression—“ He threw back his head, his seed spilling into you. You trembled, coming undone for a second time, though this orgasm was weaker than the first.

Panting, you pulled away from his body as soon as you could. “I should shower, Master Ren. The… Injections are standard and—“

“Yes. I’ll join you. And then you will meet your child.” You nearly lost your footing, swaying where you stood. Master Ren stood and placed a hand on your upper arm to steady you.


	6. In Times of Change

** Mother is God **

_But when he looked out across the crowd, the sea of faces, the thing happened again. The thing that had happened with the apple._

_They_ changed.

**Chapter Six: In Times of Change**

To shower in darkness or else dimmed lighting had been a norm for you. It had allowed you to feel comfortable, to reminisce over your childhood. While you had been pregnant, it had allowed you to feel at ease as you whispered, albeit in your head, words to your unborn children. It had also been in a darkened shower that you had mourned the loss of Gabe. You had clutched your stomach—so empty, a wretched house of death—and cried whilst containing your sobs so as to keep the elders from overhearing. They would have scowled and reprimanded you. You had been nothing more than a sin.

This shower was conducted in the light. As though you were a beacon of hope, someone who could help protect the child who had survived past birth. Master Ren stood with you under the spray. His brown orbs lingered on portions of your flesh, though ultimately they studied your face. You could feel your brow furrowing then relaxing. Your mind was attempting to wrap around your new position. In the past you had believed your hopes to be foolish and blasphemous. This man had told you otherwise.

All of this was coupled with the fact that having another in the shower with you was a foreign experience. You had found peace in the solitude. Equally peaceful was this man’s presence. He was a teacher to you, and you felt the part of an ignorant student.

“Don’t be afraid,” Master Ren said in a soft, deep voice. Your eyelids descended once then rose. You turned your body away from the spray in order to look at your current companion in full. He raised a hand, which he used to cup your cheek. His thumb caressed the side of your face, back and forth, back and forth. “You will see death—do not be terrified. My blade will not touch the child.”

It dawned on you then that the fear he spoke of was not imagined. You felt your limbs trembling. All your life you had been afraid of the field, of its promise of death. And though you had been an embodiment of sin in the eyes of your people, you had not observed the darkness that was death. You wondered if the child that had come from your body had seen death. In order to form a sense of emotional detachment—clarity, the elders referred to it as—perhaps Asher had witnessed the deaths of many.

The world around you was changing.

Master Ren traced the washcloth along his sternum. The movements drew your eyes simultaneous to urging you into a sort of trance. You had already rinsed what semen you could off of your body. It caused your head to buzz, the memory of what had transpired mere minutes ago—this man had informed you there was a pill that would prevent pregnancy. He would order one of the stormtroopers to bring one for you. It went against everything you had been groomed for.

 _A body of death,_ you thought, clenching your teeth as bile made its way up your esophagus. You placed the palms of your hands on your belly, the pads of your fingers digging into the flesh. You could not help but think of Gabe.

Master Ren removed the washcloth from his body to instead place the material on your shoulder. You winced as though it had harmed you though in reality all it had done was drawn you out of your thoughts. “Why are you crying?” the man asked. How could he see the tears past the spray of water? This question failed to leave your lips. No answer escaped you either, which prompted him to take a step closer to you.

It felt as though all air had been zapped from your lungs. You wanted to tell this man what was causing you to tremble, to cry, and yet you feared that he would mock you once more for being sheltered or ignorant. Too compassionate. It was not that you wished to have his child at all. You did not want to become impregnated. But would the pill he had proposed _kill_? Of this you _were_ ignorant.

Not accepting your silence as an answer, the man allowed the washcloth to fall to the floor of the shower. It made a loud, wet _thud_. The hand that had been holding it hovered in the air beside your head. You could feel something squirming in your head, as though there were worms burrowing into your brain. It was not excruciating, though it remained uncomfortable and something that had you wincing. You squeezed closed your eyes, your hand flying up to bat at his wrist. The burrowing ceased immediately. He had accepted your actions for what they were—a rejection.

And yet you did not know what to do with all this free will.

Having _felt_ his power as you had, you could hardly fathom why it was that he was allowing you to choose at all. He was truly capable of taking anything he wanted. A thought. A memory. A life. It was so simple for him.

“I don’t want to kill.” The words tumbled out of your mouth. They felt infantile as you said them. As though you were a child blurting out answers to a question you hardly understood.

“It will not kill,” the man murmured. You could not meet his eye, your gaze focused on his chest, and so you had no idea as to where he was looking. “It will prevent…” A heavy breath escaped him. It occurred to you that even _he_ did not understand completely how the pill worked. “They said that you lost a child.” You responded merely with a nod. “This is not like that—that much I can say with certainty.” There was a pause during which a strange noise escaped him, a sort of strangled sound. This was soon followed by: “I will not force you to take the pill.”

“If I don’t…take it…?” you ventured to ask.

“Were you to become impregnated with my child, the subsequent actions taken by the First Order would be beyond my control. My Master would advise which course of actions would be taken. The Supreme Leader is wise.”

The very idea that Master Ren answered to another struck you as odd in that moment. His words hit in full the next.

“You mean to say the child…would be…killed…if…”

“That would be a possibility.” His tone was detached though you sensed there was a deeper set of emotions circulating through this man. If not, what sort of monster had you lain with? Master Ren bent down to retrieve the washcloth whilst your mind supplied an answer: the sort that was to kill those who surrounded Asher. This individual before you, your teacher to a new world that was to unfold, he was both a man and a monster. A practitioner of the Force. You imagined he was bound by different rules; perhaps he was no monster at all. “Perhaps I should have been more careful with you.”

It was likely the closest to an apology you would receive from the man. The position in which he had placed you left you feeling lost. On that same note, you well knew that you were, in a way, equally responsible. You had been the one to instigate what had led to this. The sex. Despite knowing that you had been given hormones to increase your fertility level, you had recklessly engaged him in sex—in those moments leading up to the act and even during, however, it had somehow slipped your mind that you could become impregnated. Even the repetition of the title of birthmother had failed to drive home the idea.

“I will take it,” you whispered, your voice loud enough for the man to hear you. He had resumed cleaning himself in the interim of your silence. Your hands fumbled with the other washcloth that was present. You used it to cup the bar of soap, lathering it up and then beginning to scrub your own body for a second time. Master Ren failed to comment on this behavior from you. It was as though he understood your need to commit yourself to some task to keep your mind from returning to the idea that you would be somehow killing a child within you by taking the pill.

The honored guest of your society—was he still so honored, you passively wondered—was the one to turn the knob that shut off the flow of water. He retrieved two towels, the first of which he handed to you and the second he wrapped around his own body.

When the two of you reentered the room in which you had previously engaged in sex, each of you moved to dress. He pulled on the clothing he had stripped out of, meanwhile you grabbed fresh robes. Your eyes landed on the mask you had been made to wear for years, ever since the age of fifteen. Habit yelled out you to place that object on your face. The sensation of your newfound free will swirled in the pit of your stomach—you had a choice now. You could choose whether or not you wished the wear the mask, and no one could force you to change your mind.

Would Master Ren think you a coward if you did don the mask?

Your fingers trailed along its surface. Familiar. It was more familiar to you than the child you were to meet. The child you had named Asher, the child who would look down on you in shame and disgust. A birthmother. Sin. You wanted to hide your face so that it was the mask that brought disgust to Asher rather than your true countenance. If the child hated the mask, it would not sting as much as if the child loathed your face.

“Will you be wearing your mask, Master Ren?” you questioned. Could this man fault you for hiding your face if he hid his? Were not the reasons similar?

_Hate the mask, but please do not hate me._

The sounds of shuffling clothing paused in unison with a thoughtful hum coming from the man. You were aware that he knew what had inspired the question. As much as he told you to not be afraid, swallowing your fears was far from a simple task. There was much you had to learn—and, if not learn, to accept. These had been secret dreams of yours for so long, things you had never believed would see the light of day. These were the things that you had feared would cause you to be taken to the field to die.

“Choose what is most comfortable. You do not go there as a birthmother.”

His words caused a tightness to roll around in the pit of your stomach. You were more than a birthmother. This you had also whispered to yourself in the past, though you had always chastised yourself afterwards.

“I go there to kill,” the man reminded you. “You go to nurture and protect.”

There was an undertone of meaning. His mask was to prevent those from demonizing _him_ for his violent actions. Yours was a shield as well—and yet your actions would be made in kindness. There was no need to shield your identity. Though you would feel bare, you decided to forgo wearing the mask and embrace the new world with your true face.

When it was time to leave, you were only a few steps behind the man you viewed as a sort of teacher. Master Ren’s strides started off long and quick, however he soon slowed to allow you an easier time to keep pace with him. The fear that you would be left behind in the world that had demonized you fled. You had a guide who, in ways he would possibly denied, cared.

Stormtroopers had increased in number. Some from your community successfully ignored their presence while others would look upon them in curiosity or fear. They, too, could sense the change that was coming. What drew their attention more than the stormtroopers was your unmasked face. Several quickly averted their gazes, some of them visibly flinching as though you were as hideous as the sins they believed you to house. Others could not tear their eyes away from you. You, meanwhile, paid them little heed.

It was the stormtroopers that would occasionally grab your attention. Those closest to the building that housed the Chief of Law and Speaker of Memory had begun to finger their weapons. They were ready for a revolt. The book that you were to read from was in your hand, its spine bending when you tensed and thus tightened your grip on it.

Master Ren removed the lightsaber that was on his belt. You stared at the weapon in his hand, a thick metal that housed power the likes of which you had not seen yet knew to fear. _He will not harm me,_ you reminded yourself. _He will not harm Asher._ This latter thought was more important to you than anything.

It echoed in your mind as you mounted the steps leading into the building. A sharp hiss was quickly followed by a red light, a sort of humming from the unstable plasma blade that extended from the hilt of the lightersaber. The crossguards flickered.

Those in the building that were presented released startled cries that were coupled with shouts of horror and warning. Their words would have no effect. You fell several steps behind the man who had led you to this place. The only thing that kept _you_ from running was the knowledge that you needed to protect the child that had come from you. Even as your stomach churned when Master Ren cut through the first of the guards that were employed by the current Chief of Law, you swallowed down the bile and told yourself that you would not run away. Death swirled around you, chaotically showing its face on the countenances of those who fell under Master Ren’s blade.

He reached out with his hand, with the Force, and cut off the cries of another of the guards. You could hear the bone crush under the weight of the invisible power. It caused your heart to race, and sweat beaded on your flesh.

Asher was only three. Yet you knew that the child had witnesses death already; that was part of the role of the Chief o Law. To know death and become detached from it. Meanwhile it was new to you. Something you cowered away from. Except for now. Now you were walking behind it.

Master Ren was Death itself, and you were there as Death’s pupil in order to _save_ Life. Asher, to you, was the embodiment of Life, the sole reason you lived on.

Along with Life and Death, when they met and formed a union between your society and the First Order, you would enter this new world. Not as sin itself but as a mere woman who could, for the first time since before you had been given your role, _hope_.

Your fingers clumsily busied themselves with turning the pages in the book in order to find the portion that mentioned the field. You would read to Asher. Use a soothing voice, the one you had spoken to the child with when Asher had been in your womb. Back when they were only Asher and not the Chief of Law’s successor. Not…whatever name they had been given by the elders of your society.

The current Chief of Law was already standing when you and Master Ren entered the room in which he had been. Though overall detached, there was still an expression of severity on the man’s face that easily displayed his displeasure over the actions of the honored guest. He did not waste time by asking what had caused the Force user to act in this manner. He merely raised the blaster that was in his hand and fired. Master Ren lifted a hand, and the blaster shot froze midair. At this the Chief of Law’s eyes widened considerably. That expression of shock was forever etched on his face; Master Ren used his powers to force the blaster shot to move in reverse and pierce the man’s chest.

The red glow of the lightsaber faded, its hum silenced. And in that silence you could hear the heavy breathing that was of a child gripped by fear. Your eyes turned in the direction from which it came, and you saw a face that reminded you of the child you had seen in the mirror when you had been younger. The book tumbled onto the floor, the text of the field lying facedown.

“Zolfen.” Your mind clung to the name that Master Ren uttered. Zolfen. Your child was indeed Life, and you feared what Death’s touch would do to him. You started forward, only to be blocked by Master Ren extending an arm before you. The child was staring not at the instrument of Death, however, but at _you_. Curious eyes blinking and staring at you in what could be vague recognition. “Where is the Speaker of Memory?”

You knew now why Master Ren was not chastising you for failing to read to the child. The Speaker of Memory, who currently held more sway than the child Chief of Law, was absent—likely guarded more heavily. The late Chief of Law had suspected this would occur, that he would be killed. And they had left your child to die; for if both the Chief of Law and the child successor were to be killed, it was the Speaker of Memory who would assume power until a new Chief of Law could be raised.

They called _you_ sin and yet were callous.

Dropping to your knees, your gaze remained locked with Zolfen’s. “The field,” the child whispered, and your heart soared at the sound of your child’s voice. Your child, who was looking at you in awe, the same way Master Ren had looked upon you. Not with disgust. With adoration. Zolfen could recognize his face in yours, and something stirred in the child that caused fear to flicker across his face. He had not been raised in love but in facts.

Your arms reached forward, like branches for Zolfen to swing with. Zolfen did not come to you—the child too overcome with a sob that erupted from his throat as tears spilled down his cheeks.

Being in as loveless a position as a birthmother, the change that had come to your world terrified this child more than it had you.


	7. Under the Weight of Sin

** Mother is God **

_You may lie._

**Chapter Seven: Under the Weight of Sin**

Zolfen, unfamiliar with being a recipient of the affection you were displaying towards him, lowered himself into a crouch. His hands went to either side of his head. Your child was too young for this sort of despair, you thought. It tugged at your heart, threatened to make you physically ill with the knowledge that the same society who had labeled you sin had done this. For the first time, you were beginning to feel true rage building up within you. You had never wished to kill any one, to take a life. Witnessing the horror of Master Ren cutting through those in this very building had aroused terror and disgust within you. Now, however, you could only think of the Speaker of Memory with loathing. You would kill for your child. You would take on the burden of sin willingly, to take a life, if it meant protecting this lovely being who was sobbing because he did not know how to react to the fact that someone _did_ love him.

The limbs that had been outstretched towards your child now lowered. You placed one hand to your mouth instead as more dark thoughts entered your mind. How you would kill those who had placed Zolfen into this position. The number of people who would face your wrath. You had been content—no, that was not correct… You had been _able_ to hold back your hurt and frustration when it had been only you as the victim. Not this child. Not the one being you loved so dearly.

Master Ren had not moved to leave despite that he had been given the answer he sought. He knew where the Speaker of Memory was located. The manner in which he was able to calmly delay seeking out his target informed you that no ships were to leave the planet. Master Ren did not have to fear that his prey would escape completely; the First Order would not allow such a thing to occur. This pleased you as well. That was the being who had left your child to die.

The hand that had been covering your mouth dropped to your side once more. You rose to your full height. It felt as though your head was empty, though at the same time filled with a type of fog. You felt quite like you were floating. To your knowledge, you were not one to sleepwalk; you imagined, however, that this was what it would be like. You walking over to the body of the previous Chief of Law. Squatting long enough to grab hold of the blaster he had previously fired at Master Ren, the one that had ultimately been his own death.

You cradled the weapon whilst standing. Zolfen was sniffling, the sobs dying down. As for Master Ren, the Force user had taken a step closer to you. You looked over at him with wide eyes. “I…”

“You have never before fired a weapon,” he said levelly. You bit down on your bottom lip to hold in your frustration. “You are more useful alive—were you to carry a weapon, those more familiar will kill you.”

You lowered your gaze down to the weapon. The blaster was indeed foreign. Its weight, its power. Would killing the Speaker of Memory cause Zolfen to be afraid of you? You half-turned, twisting at your torso to look over at your child. His body shuddered as a hiccup wracked his frame. He was not emotionless yet, not to the extent that the elders wished him to be. More confused and likely to shy away from affection, but…

“I…” You took a single step forward so that you could set the blaster on a table. “Master Ren, I wish to see it… I want to go to the field. I want to face my fears. It always meant death to me, for me. It was going to be my fate. Any now… Now it’s a hiding place for someone who did not care…” You swallowed thickly. Your mind supplied the names _Asher_ and _Zolfen_ both. The same child. _Your_ child. “I need Zolfen to be safe so that I can go with you…please, Master Ren.”

There was no immediate response. From the little amount of time you had spent with the man, you knew that he was weighing his options. Finding the best course of action. You knew that there was a chance you would be denied this. Yet, that you had been free to request such a thing already had you loving this new hierarchy in comparison with the former. Master Ren walked in the direction of the child Chief of Law. You listened to the boot steps without moving to watch him. You simply stared at the spot he had previously occupied. Master Ren had promised to not harm Zolfen, and you believed him.

“You have seen the field.” He said this simply. A matter-of-fact statement that was directed at your child. With these words, you did turn around. Zolfen hiccupped again and nodded. “What is there?”

“Death,” Zolfen said, his voice sounding as though all air had been stolen from his lungs. You felt yourself swaying in place. It was loathsome to you, the idea that your child, a mere three years old, had seen so much death. It caused your anger to grow. Made you think of all the times you had been close to breaking. It had you thinking of what would have happened if Zolfen had seen _you_ in the field. A face he clearly recognized on sight.

You stared into the dark depths of the visor when it pointed towards you. Master Ren was gauging the reactions of your child and you. For what purpose, you did not know. And conditioning caused you to hold your tongue. You still stumbled when it came to freedom.

Master Ren now rose so that he was not crouched in front of Zolfen. When he spoke, he was clearly addressing you. “I will bring proof of the death. You, however, will remain here.”

You found yourself trembling, your entire body shaking in a way that you could not remember it ever having done so. “But I want him to suffer!” Your voice was pitched, desperation in your tone. Your words caused Zolfen’s eyes to go wide as your son looked to you. Tears began to fill your eyes. “They didn’t care… They knew that…they were going to let Zolfen…die…” It felt as though someone was choking you. Your throat was thick and it hurt to breathe.

“Which is why it is imperative you protect the child.” His voice was cold, though you could not tell if this was due to the vocoder or that he was distancing himself emotionally. You felt your eyes rising towards the ceiling, your body slouching. It took so much of your strength to nod.

Master Ren did not take the blaster with him. You could hear him walking away in unison with stormtroopers entering to keep guard over you. The chrome armored trooper was also present. Captain Phasma placed a hand on her hip and considered you. You wondered what her impression of you was. When she moved to consider your child, you stepped in front of the boy. Your mind knew that she was an ally. But everything within you told you to protect Zolfen. Even if it was from his fear of this coming change. You knew now why it was that Master Ren had rejected the idea of you going with him. Zolfen did need you to keep him calm.

After a few minutes elapsed and Zolfen looked at Captain Phasma of his own accord, you found yourself relaxing a little. You picked up the book that Master Ren had given you. _Read_ , you told yourself, clumsily flipping through the pages.

You sat cross-legged several inches away from the boy. He remained standing for a few minutes even as you began to read on the tales. Not of the field; now that the boy knew where Master Ren was headed, you wanted to give your son a story of something that would not be so cruel. The story of the beginnings of the Force caught your eye, and it was this tale that you began to read. Your voice was low; loud enough that Zolfen could hear, but the stormtroopers gathered might have to strain to listen. You wanted to keep things as calm as possible.

There were the sounds of blasters being fired outside as you read. Zolfen reacted only a handful of times. You, however, jumped a little each time a shot was fired. It had you wondering how many of those you had grown up with were being killed. You felt sick to your stomach, ill at ease. The reality of this entire situation was hitting you. Even if they did not _want_ to kill more than the elders, the First Order was _willing_ to.

Your society had labeled you as an embodiment of sin. It only made sense that you had allowed the tool of their death to be inside of you, didn’t it? Master Ren had lain with you. Had that you been taking _his_ sin away? Had he been washing himself clean by using your body? It would be no different than those of your society…except you had given permission.

Zolfen scooted ever closer to you, the boy cupping the book and tugging it away from you so that he could see the pictures. Your voice faded away. Instead, you allowed your eyes to roam his features. This was the closest to him you had bee since his birth. You wanted more than anything to reach out and touch him. That would be too much for him just yet.

Time trickled by. No more distance was erased between you and your son. He remained within reach, yet you feared to touch him. Worried that it would cause him to permanently pull away from you.

The blaster fire ceased, the cries of shock and pain faded away. More stormtroopers filed in, these ones carrying robes. You eyed the color of the material. Black. Zolfen rose to meet the stormtrooper before you could. You nearly leapt to your feet, your heart starting to pound in your chest. Your son drew the smaller robes closer to himself while holding out the robes that were intended for you to you. You accepted the clothing. Captain Phasma remained watching while the others turned around. Zolfen angled his body away, you mimicking this to preserve some sense of decency.

These were death robes, you thought. Were they in celebration over the new rule? Or was their purpose to allow those who survived the ability to mourn? It was strange to you. Different from the rituals of the past.

Zolfen followed Captain Phasma without question. To him, you imagined, she was the elder who would now show him how to lead. He was not wrong. You remained a number of paces behind your child, keeping his full body in your view. Despite all the death, you were overcome by joy in being allowed to see him. _Asher,_ you thought seconds before your mind corrected itself. _Zolfen_.

Your son paused when he noticed Master Ren off to the side. You looked to the Force user as well. His mask was pointed in the direction of your child, the child Chief of Law. The leader of your society. You realized in that moment that the stormtroopers truly were there as guards _for_ the child, to keep him safe. This would be an alliance. Master Ren had not lied to you in that, even if he had lessened the blow as to what this change in power would mean. How many deaths it would cause. You felt ignorant, foolish that your mind had not supplied you with this knowledge immediately.

Master Ren began to walk in the direction of your group. You could feel your eyes starting to roam his clothing. Were there bloodstains? Had he washed them off before coming here?

“Instructors will be brought from both your society and the First Order,” the Force user said to your child. Zolfen blinked, the boy processing what was being told to him, and then gave a small nod. Master Ren then looked to you. “Come.”

Stormtroopers drew away from you to instead close around your son. He was provided the best protection, something that made it to where you felt more comfortable when obeying the words of Master Ren. You were silent while walking with him. Listening and observing as everyone was being gathered together. It would soon be announced, this new alliance.

It struck you at the number of bodies that were on the ground. Stunned. You furrowed your brow upon realizing this. There had been less deaths than you had been led to believe. Yet it made sense. That would have caused a greater revolt, if those of your society were slaughtered so easily. The majority of individual stunned appeared to be the tourists who had come to your planet for the celebrations.

“Master Ren?” you said softly as the two of you drew further and further away.

“He suffered. Limb by limb.” You shuddered at his words. This man had committed a heinous act…because you had asked him to. Were you as guilty of the sin? You had played a role, in a way, in the man’s demise. “I was told that if I killed Zolfen, he would obey the First Order. Spare _his_ life.”

Hot rage began to burn within you anew. You felt sickly satisfied that the man had suffered in death. Master Ren seemed to know this, judging by the way he turned to look at you. He said no further words. You had stopped walking, and your hands busily twisted the material of your death robes.

“Doesn’t it hurt? I… It must drive you crazy, Master Ren,” you said in a hushed voice. He hummed, the sound indicating a question. “All that sin. All that death. Being responsible for it.”

“You would know better than I,” he replied.

The man took a step closer to you. Somehow, you knew what it was that he wanted. No, it was not purely a want. It was a need. You drew aside your robes as he began to do the same with his own. Master Ren pinned you against the side of the building that was obscuring you from the view of the rest of your society. You wrapped your arms around him as he entered you. Held tightly onto him, knowing he was trying to convince himself that what he did was for the greater good. It was not pure sin. It was not to take joy in the kill—yet he had prolonged that death _for you_.

“Thank you,” you whispered, letting him use your body to erase the sin that was on his conscience, the sin that both of you shared. The sin that had been committed for the sake of your child.

“Yes,” Master Ren responded, grunting and gripping your more tightly. You could feel him moving within you, deeply and pleasantly. Could hear the whispers he possibly did not know were slipping from him. That everything he had done was right. He was fine.

You let him lie, and hoped that both you and he could endure the weight of that shared sin.


	8. With the Rising Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story length is a guess. It may be adjusted as we proceed.

**Mother is God**

 

_“There’s much more. There’s all that goes beyond—all that is Elsewhere—and all that goes back, and back, and back. I received all of those, when I was selected. And here in this room, all alone, I re-experience them again and again. It is how wisdom comes. And how we shape our future.”_

_He rested for a moment, breathing deeply. “I am so **weighted** with them,” he said._

**Chapter Eight: With the Rising Sun**

 

Being with Master Ren as you were, you missed the majority of the announcements that outlined the new rules and laws. Your community was now a part of the First Order; Zolfen was instated as the Chief of Law in an official capacity. There were hushed murmurs of confusion and awe from the gathered crowd. Tourists were observed by the stormtroopers. Once you and Master Ren had redressed, the man who had reunited you with your child had you remain with him. The building no longer obscured you from the view of others, if they had any inclination to look—they did not; everyone was far too enthralled by the chrome-armored woman, a First Order superior officer, and Zolfen. How small your son appeared. There was a tightness in your chest, an unexplainable ache that was built upon the knowledge that many would seek to manipulate him. Not that this hadn’t already been occurring in his life.

 

Master Ren lifted a hand from his side. His glove trailed through your hair without adding any pressure to your scalp.

 

“Master Ren,” you said, your voice low so that you were still able to hear the speaker that was addressing your community. The man shifted closer to you. He cupped your hands with both of his. You could not help but wonder if he understood human nature better than you did. He had never been sheltered by the laws that had governed your society. The laws that were now being changed. “I… For my child, I—“

 

The gloved fingers twitched against the backs of your hands. You closed your mouth with the knowledge that there was no need for you to say anything further. As for his response, the man did not give it immediately. Instead the Force user stepped around you. With a brief gesture, he summoned you forward, urging you to follow him as he walked to where your child was. The stormtroopers guarding Zolfen had their fingers on the triggers of their blasters. They were more ready and willing to protect your son’s life than had been the now-late elders.

 

The laws were changing, your mind repeated. Officers and stormtroopers alike had brought the birthmothers into the crowd. They were without their masks. You knew that they felt naked and ashamed, just as you had. Just as you still did in a way. The birthmothers kept their eyes trained on the ground. Those who were currently with child, clasped their swollen bellies when the community was informed that there would be a change in how one became a mother. The stormtrooper program was being introduced as well. It was a lot of information, all at once.

 

You could not help but wonder if the First Order was prepared to write this all down—or had they already? They seem to have come prepared, you thought whilst your eyes slid to Master Ren. His gaze, meanwhile, appeared to be directed on your son. You followed the trail of his stare, and found yourself lurching forward. An invisible hand halted your movements. It hurt to be this far from Zolfen. You wanted nothing more than to hold him. Yet you understood that this would perhaps break your child down. There were too many changes for him. You were grateful that Master Ren was ensuring nothing overwhelmed Zolfen to where it cracked him in a way that could not be repaired.

 

“Master Ren, will you leave?” The two of you were both aware that the Force user could not remain on your planet forever. That was _not_ what you were asking. You needed to know if he would leave before your son could be at least held by you. Before your community started on this new track. When there was no reply, you took your eyes off your son to instead look at the man.

 

He was watching you in return. “They celebrate the Force here… I wish to see the texts that the elders have hidden.” You did not know how to respond; his reply confused you in that, aside from the tales that were in the book you had read to Zolfen, you had not known there were more texts. Not like what this outsider was mentioning. “I requested permission to remain. In part to observe, yet also to further my knowledge. I can feel it here—in the field, I felt it as well. This planet houses a secret.”

 

You thought of the ceremonies that were held by community, many of which you had missed since your selection as birthmother. Standing off to the side, the greater parts of the celebrations had been forbidden to you.

 

“You will remain with me…and the child as well. It is best that he be protected until all treaties are signed.” There was a brief pause, during which time he shifted his feet and stared directly forward. “I will ensure that you learn to use a blaster. The love you have for this child… Such a strong emotion—I can feel it, in the Force. Your devotion.”

 

There was a longing in his tone as he spoke, though it was distorted by the mask he wore. You knew that he had a mother somewhere; and you could feel the fondness he had for her in how he spoke. It was odd, then, that you felt it would be foolish to bring up such a thing. As though he had no desire to speak plainly of his mother. Was it shame? One could love someone so deeply yet be ashamed by them. You thought of the woman who had raised you. The expression of disgust and hurt that had crossed her features after your selection as birthmother. Perhaps, though the laws had clearly been different wherever he was from, his relationship with his mother was similar to what you had in those regards.

 

You again swallowed down your desire to question him about the world outside of your planet. You wondered how many places he had been to. These things you wanted not only for yourself, but to be able to share with Zolfen.

 

Stormtroopers were entering and exiting the various buildings of your community. They were cleaning. Bodies were carted out, placed on a pyre that had at last been lit. You wrinkled your nose at the smell of burning flesh. It caused your heart to race. There arose a strong urge to scream that the field was where the dead should be taken. Instead, keeping silent, you felt yourself choking on your own tongue. A small sob caused your body to tremble. You held in any others that gripped at your chest.

 

“This is a new world,” the increasingly familiar voice said to you. You wrapped your arms around your body. If you could smell the burning bodies, so could your son. This was not the sort of thing you wanted for him. “These actions are not to punish you. Do you see them?”

 

The _them_ in his question was in reference to the tourists. You gazed around yourself, looking at a variety of the faces in the crowd. As though they were watching a show. Some were scowling, some looking on in awe. There were many, however, that seemed _thrilled_. This disgusted you. And yet, somehow, you understood. Each one of these tourist would return to their home planets eventually. All that they could observe now would be retold later. The mixed feelings. Your son’s name. The First Order—and any joy it brought. The freedoms that would not belong to the birthmothers. That was on thing that the tourists were still reeling from. The truth behind the position had been revealed to these outsiders. Horrified gasps. Some murmurs that caused you to feel sick to your stomach; there were those who would have abused such a position, much as the elders had. Sleep with any girl you desired.

 

This allowed you to once more appreciate that Master Ren was by your side, that he was the one present to help bring your community into the new world. Regardless, you continued to feel some sadness for any child that would be taken away and placed in the stormtrooper program. The selfish part of you, the part that had had to remain a secret from the elders, was happy that your son would not be taken away.

 

Tourists were allowed to return to the inns they had rented, or else their ships. In the case of the latter, they were not permitted to leave the planet. You stared up at the dark sky. There was a large shape there, which you heard a tourist call a Star Destroyer. You had never been one to learn the names of the ships.

 

As for the natives of your community, those with homes were allowed to reenter them. The birthmothers were given several buildings in which they could rest. The integration back into the community would take time. There was fear in the eyes of those who were not birthmothers. Shame. It baffled you that they, those who had demonized you for so long, had the beginnings of shame thrust upon them simply because they had been forced to listen to their own crimes. Those who had been oblivious to how birthmothers were selected—some of them grabbed onto their children, their daughters, and pulled them closer.

 

You were not returned to your room. Instead you accompanied Zolfen, Master Ren, and the chrome-armored warrior to the building in which your child had been growing all these years. There were two mats on the floor beside your child’s bed. Zolfen dressed in sleeping clothes in a different room then returned. You marveled over how small he was. And looked on in dismay when he climbed underneath the covers with his back to you. There was no _goodnight_. This hurt.

 

Without seeking permission, you moved onto the mat that as nearest to your son’s bed. You knelt down upon it, your eyes roaming along his body as silence stretched out in the room. Captain Phasma had gone into the next room to sleep. Master Ren removed his helmet and outer robes prior to laying on the remaining mat.

 

“Would… Do you want to…hear a story?” you asked. You had never before known that words could be so thick in one’s throat, on one’s tongue. Your son did not respond. Clearing your throat, you tried a second time. “Z-Zolfen, would you…like to hear a story?”

 

At the sound of his name, the three-year-old startled. He turned around on the bed and stared at your face with wide eyes. “They don’t tell stories at night,” the boy said. You were glad that _they_ were dead.

 

“I can. For you. If you would like me to.” He nodded. As you started to speak again, you heard Master Ren shift on his mat, his body moving closer to you. “When I was small, like you, I thought the sun was carried by birds. They flew across the sky, by my window, most mornings. My mother…my female caretaker, she didn’t know I believed birds were what brought the day. There was a tear in one of the pillows, and I saw feathers coming out.”

 

“Did you think it was a bird?” Zolfen asked, the child sitting up. You nodded, which prompted your son to slip out from underneath his covers. He brought his pillow down to your mat. “They showed me how they cook the birds, but all those feathers…”

 

You chuckled, more out of glee that he had come nearer to you of his own volition than by any request or prompting from you. “I thought the sun wasn’t going to come up the next day.” Zolfen grinned at you as though you were a silly child. He pinched at the corners of his pillow. You knew that there were feathers in it, which is perhaps why your story, silly as it was in your opinion, had grabbed him.

 

The night was not young; the three of you were in the room to rest solely because how the time had been passed. Zolfen was exhausted, you could see it in his eyes. Saw the way he rubbed at those eyes with his hands and tiredly yawned. Yet he was nervous and confused as well. Eager to latch onto something more positive before he slept. You did not want him to dream of the night’s horrors when he did sleep. You wanted him to know that someone cared for him; not the elders who had left him to die by Master Ren’s blade. _You_ cared for him. He needed to know that.

 

“Did your mom tell you about the real sun?” Zolfen asked.

 

You nodded. “Yes… She…” You swallowed back the tears, feeling your chest again tightening. You remembered your childhood, and your remembered the coldness that had come from your mother the last time you had seen her. “She ran her fingers through my hair and told me all about the sun.”

 

Zolfen knit his brow at your words. He had undoubtedly seen the act if ever he had been through the community on his way to the field. But he had never felt it firsthand. Your fingers twitched, which prompted you to curl your hands into loose fists to fight off the urge to touch his hair. Zolfen looked to Master Ren. You twisted around, adjusting how you were sitting so that you were able to observe both of them.

 

Master Ren’s eyes were filled with the same curiosity that you could see in Zolfen’s. “Did _your_ mom tell you about the sun?” the three-year-old questioned. You felt yourself tense in apprehension. The recipient of the inquiry, however, seemed to have been expecting the question. He did not flinch. Did nothing more than nod a single time. “And…her fingers in your hair?”

 

You quickly brushed the tears that you had been unable to choke down. There was something utterly heartbreaking, for you, to hear the desperation in Zolfen’s voice. He was trying to understand. Perhaps even imagining what it was like, to have such an experience when he had been raised in coldness. You extended an arm in the child’s direction. He caught the action in his peripheral, and he turned a wide-eyed stare to you. You unbent your fingers. They hovered in the air between your child and you. Zolfen curled his legs, pulled the pillow closer to his body, and ducked his head. But he could not take his eyes off of your fingers.

 

“I can…show you… If you’re… You can rest your head on the pillow, and I can… I will tell you about the sun and run my fingers through your hair.”

 

Master Ren nodded encouragingly. His stare was on you rather than your child now. There was that same look of awe that you had seen from him several times. The idea of a devoted mother somehow meant something to this man. Something so powerful that it gripped him to his core.

 

Zolfen hesitated for another handful of seconds before placing his pillow down on your mat. He curled up, his head on the pillow and his knees near his stomach. You ran your tongue along your lips as you whispered the same words that your mother had used. All the while, you stroked his hair. He trembled a little, which caused you to allow more time between each petting. His lips tugged at the sides. A smile then a frown or a pout before the smile returned. It was a melancholy smile, one that bespoke of how little he was prepared for affection. How much he yearned for it.

 

His eyelids fluttered until at last they remained down. His breathing evened out. Your son slept there on your mat. You pulled back your hand long enough to cover him with a blanket.

 

The Force user moved on his mat so that there was room enough for you. You accepted the invitation. His arm was around you as you laid there watching your child. Your back against his chest. Master Ren grabbed at the hand that had been running through Zolfen’s hair. His fingers skimmed over yours. You wondered if he was thinking of his mother; then, in the next breath, knew that he was.

 

“As Chief of Law, Zolfen will have to be present when I search the field for the texts. He will know what I seek when we arrive.”

 

“What if he doesn’t remember?”

 

“He will.” There was no room for argument. There was also a lack of hostility in his tone that made it to where you were comfortable enough to nod. “You will be with him. You asked to see the field, do you remember?”

 

“I remember.” Master Ren pressed more tightly against you. You entwined your fingers with his then pulled away your hand. Reaching behind yourself, you set their tips in his hair and drew your limb downward. His breath came out ragged. “He’s so small. He’s so big, but he’s so small.”

 

“Don’t be afraid.” You let the tears come now. Zolfen did not have to see them, did not have to be confused by them or become afraid. You, though, you _were_ afraid. You wanted to do all that you could to protect your son, and you knew that Master Ren would assist you for as long as he could. That did help to lessen your fears. As for your tears, those continued to flow. And it felt wonderful, knowing that you were allowed to express yourself so openly. That was one thing you no longer feared, and you knew that it was something your child would not have to fear either.

 

It was amazing, these experiences that Master Ren brought with him. The influences of the outside world, the freedom you had secretly yearned for since you had been selected as birthmother. The child you had referred to as _Asher_ was now reunited with you. This was something Master Ren had indicated was normal. That the child should be with the mother unless she chose to give the child away. Master Ren had stained his hand in sin by killing the elders, but, oh, how you cherished it all, the scars that were on his soul. And you would do all that you could to show Master Ren that his actions were worth it, that they meant something that would continue on for generations. You would teach it to Zolfen, the freedom to love and to feel. Though he would have to be strong as Chief of Law, you would not allow him to be loveless.

 

You stroked your fingers through the dark-haired man’s locks again. In response, he hooked his face in the crook of your neck, which allowed you easier access. You pet his hair until he, like Zolfen, drifted off to sleep.


	9. Visible Rewards

**Mother is God**

 

_“It was so—oh, I wish language were more precise! The red was so beautiful!”_

_The Giver nodded. “It is.”_

 

**Chapter Nine: Visible Rewards**

 

The exhausted that must have gripped your son kept him sleep for longer than either you or Master Ren rested. You laid there, curled up on the mat as you stared at the boy. Zolfen looked at peace. You were grateful that he was not—at least that you could tell—plagued by nightmares from what had occurred the previous night. He had been left to die, a fact that continued to anger you. Master Ren had risen. He was in the shower, the running water echoing in the background. You would be taken to the field later. Fear was gripping at you, yet you were concentrating on masking that sensation. You would not allow Zoflen to glimpse your discomfort. He would take comfort in your strength. It hit you then, how strong your child was. Detached as well. The yearning for affection remained instilled in his nature. That was clear to you as well, the previous night having allowed you to glimpse it.

 

You reached forward to run the very tips of your fingers through his hair. It was so soft, just as you had remembered it being.

 

The water was shut off, a light trickle that faded away into nothingness. Master Ren entered the room wearing only a towel. You glanced at your child to ensure he still slept. Then rose to your feet. “You needn’t be afraid.” You appreciated that he sought to alleviate some of your worry. “You will not perish in the field.” A promise, a vow that he would, as much as possible, keep you safe. Master Ren stared at you with the same hint of awe that had initially instilled such confusion at the beginning of your interactions with him.

 

“The First Order is not yet perfect,” the man admitted. You found yourself furrowing your brow at the Force user’s words. “But… Unlike the New Republic, we do not ignore the plights of communities such as yours simply because they do not encompass the entire planet. Nor because of distance, selfish senators, or any other feeble excuse. Your son is a part of that now. Our ally. And you… You are not a mere body.”

 

“I’ll never be able to thank you enough, Master Ren.” You twisted at your torso, peering at the slumbering form of Zolfen. You had been freed to make your own choices. Yet your choice had never been any different; you had _always_ been searching for your child, wanting to care for the one you had previously referred to as _Asher_.

 

His lips twitched at the corners. Had he allowed himself to give way to emotion, you imagined he would have either smiled or smirked at you. “You have.” It was not some careless or meaningless phrase to belittle your gratitude nor dismiss it. Master Ren made a sweeping gesture between you and your son. This man was staining his hands and soul with sin in order to better the galaxy. You were proof that there were results. Watching you with your child, Master Ren was all the more aware that was not a foolish dreamer.

 

There was a light knock on the door, one that did not cause Zolfen to stir. A stormtrooper delivered a bag, in which there was new clothing for you. Underclothing—a long-sleeve shirt and pants—that helped to regulate body temperature. Along with these were robes that were similar to what you had worn in the past, although these allowed for more mobility. You were grateful for this. Navigating the field would have otherwise been more tricky. Master Ren allowed you to dress in the bathroom. He, meanwhile, pulled on his clothes while in the bedroom.

 

Zolfen awoke eight minutes after you had rejoined the Force user. You drew a bath for the boy, feeling slightly out of place while doing so. You had pictured committing yourself to such tasks many times. Now that it was a reality, you caring for your child, your head felt as though it were buzzing. You swiped your hand underneath the water leaving the spout to ensure it was not too hot. Zolfen had entered the bathroom with you, your son fumbling with his clothes and climbing into the tub before it was full. You stared at his face. The boy was doing what he could to hold back a smile.

 

“Are you scared of the field?” the boy asked, his words pitched in places as he squirmed in the bath. He was swaying his arms back and forth, cutting the water and observing the ripples. You licked your lips, hoping to buy yourself some time. “It smells there,” he said without waiting. Zolfen wrinkled his nose as though even now he could smell the stench. The small three-year old’s words were not always correctly pronounced, however you understood him.

 

“I’m less afraid of it now.” You did not wish to lie to your child. Holding back some information made sense to you. Yet it had to be obvious that the field terrified you. What it stood for. This part you would not say to him. How you had thought you would die there, how you feared that you would see a familiar face—either dead or alive—and thus witness what would have been your future. It was not anymore. Your future was at Zolfen’s side.

 

You stood from the tub’s side to grab the unused washcloth that was folded on the countertop. You handed the material to your child. He dunked it underneath the water, the boy squirming then growing rigid. As though he realized he had done something wrong by playing. “It will be better now,” you whispered to him in reassurance. Zolfen nodded once. He cupped his hands underneath the water and once more toyed with the washcloth.

 

Master Ren entered the bathroom at the same time that Zolfen had grabbed up the soap to clean himself. Masks had been brought for you and Zolfen to wear. They would help keep out any diseases that one could contract from the corpses in the field; those had not been moved. It was a task that your community would set for itself. The First Order would not be playing the role of dictator. An ally. Master Ren had not lied to you on that front either. You held the towel for Zolfen until your son grabbed it from you. He patted himself dry, scampered into the room, and pulled on his new clothes. You had busied yourself with draining the tub while listening to how the mask worked. The technology was not anything you had been allowed to familiarize yourself with. The elders had ensured that you were kept healthy for the sole purpose of performing your duty as birth mother. Masks like what the Force user described, though—was that technology something your society had possessed?

 

If they did not before, you were under the impression that they soon would. The First Order would want to ensure that those in your community remained healthy so that any children brought into the stormtrooper program would be fit to serve.

 

Zolfen did not protest when Master Ren squatted to assist him in placing on the mask. You watched the two together, marveling over the way the Force user’s hands would begin to draw back, as though he worried he was being too rough with the child. He did not seem accustomed to having children around him, though he had been fine with the baby when it had been brought in by the elder. This was a man who lived on the battlefield. Tenderness was—but did he not have anyone who treated him this way? When he would leave from the battles…or did he never leave? Was he always on duty?

 

“We must take care to not set off any traps,” Master Ren stated, drawing you out of your thoughts. Zolfen did not startle at the words. You, on the other hand, furrowed your brow. Why would there be traps in the field? Twisting at his torso, the man regarded you. “Inside the keep. The secrets will be guarded, possibly to the point that they would be destroyed if we took the wrong step. I assume they are underground.”

 

“Mm-hmm,” the child hummed, rocking back and forth on his feet. He flung his hands about, his mouth twitching from side to side as he struggled to remember more about the subject. “There are stairs. One’s broken.” A small pause, followed by: “It’s dark.”

 

You wondered what sort of expression Master Ren wore behind his mask. The Force user patted at the weapon that was attached to his belt. That red blade. You remembered its glow, and knew that he was implying it would double as a light. There would likely be other sources of light given to either you or the stormtroopers that would be accompanying Master Ren. Zolfen’s eyes were trained on the hilt of the lightsaber. He likely remembered the blade as well. You could see the mixture of emotions cross the part of his face that was unconcealed by the mask, which covered only one’s nose and mouth. Your son had hints of fear on his face. He had seen death—more than you had at that. There was, too, a curiosity. The childish need to touch such a thing. His fingers twitched, and he bounced thrice on his heels before turning away and distracting himself with other objects in the room.

 

“The Jedi had not been allowed attachments either,” Master Ren said, which prompted you to look away from your son and at the man instead. “After their fall, there were some who adapted. Your child is young. There is more…hope for him. The First Order will ensure that his affections for you do not interfere with his role, however there is no need to dissuade him from caring.”

 

You marveled over the way Master Ren always seemed able to see _through_ you and _into_ you at the same time. His words of comfort were factual; he never sugar-coated the issue. If Zolfen’s feelings for you developed into something that would cause a bias, there would be alterations made. You had to be careful that these things did not happen. Had to ensure that you did not interfere with his teachings from the First Order. The warning would help you to keep from being taken out of your child’s life again. For reasons that Master Ren would not fully divulge, it was important to him that your connection to Zolfen was not severed.

 

“Everyone feels they know best,” you said, feeling your heart beginning to race in your chest as you waited to be punished for such insolence. Master Ren, however, merely chuckled in amusement. He seemed to agree with you on some level. “Master Ren, may I… Aside from learning how to use a blaster—they don’t finish your education when you’re assigned to be birthmother.”

 

Master Ren tilted his head to the side. It reminded you again of when he had held the baby in your presence. So human, as opposed to the mysterious figure that wore a mask. “The other birthmothers will also require teachings. The First Order will offer its assistance. The resources may be limited for cost efficiency.”

 

“I am grateful for any improvement at all.” You once more looked at your son. The three of you would be leaving for the field in a short while. In the meantime, Zolfen was allowed to explore the room. There were multiple objects that gave him pause, as though he had never before seen them. Everyone in your community would have much to learn. Things that the elders had kept from you, or else that there had never been access to.

 

You could feel that Master Ren was watching you in the same way that you were observing Zolfen. Curiosity with how the individual would react to new stimulants. Fresh sights. The blossoming changes. Master Ren was being permitted the chance to at last see the fruits of his labor, and he was in awe of them. Perhaps this was what he had missed in his own childhood, or else _from_ his childhood. Before he had joined the First Order. You thought of the story of the tree, the one that had given everything to the boy she loved. You wanted to tell this story to Zolfen one day. When he was ready though; too much at once could overwhelm him.

 

When it came time to journey to the field, you found that sweat gathered on your hands. You were walking beside Master Ren. Captain Phasma was accompanying you, the woman in front of Zolfen, who was mere steps before you. You were grateful that he was in your line of sight. The smell from the field hit you before it was even in sight. The fact that the mask you wore lessened its potency had your stomach churning. This would have been your fate. Tending to these fields without a mask. Becoming diseased and dying when at last your duty killed you. As though you were not important to anyone at all. That was how your society had viewed you; importance based on your ability to have a child—to be raped.

 

Coming to these fields would help you to heal and move on from those past hurts. It was helping you to come to terms with both your past and your future. You would in turn meet with the other birthmothers, those who had been your only friends when there had been no freedom. You would help them to adjust as well. Tell them the stories that Master Ren had told you. Those who carried children within them would be give the option to keep their babies or allow them to join the stormtrooper program.

 

They would have a _choice_. You stood straighter as you entered the field. There were bodies there, although some were being tended to by those in your society who had chosen to conduct proper burials. Stormtroopers were assisting them. A true union between your community and the First Order. Tears welled up in your eyes. You were overcome with emotion. Despair. Joy. Hope. This field would no longer be your future, not as the elders had intended them to be.

 

“Hmm-hmm-hmm.” Zolfen began to hum a tune to one of the creation songs that you had also learned in your youth. He was turning his head. Searching for—his arm shot up, his finger extended as he indicated the right direction. Captain Phasma, Master Ren, you, and the stormtroopers that made up the rest of your group, all turned to follow.

 

Deeper into the fields, in the direction that your son was leading you, there were less bodies. You walked atop several wooden doors that were placed on the ground. Zolfen said they were for supplies. Boring. You could see the way he wrinkled his nose when he spoke, the boy tilting back his head to peer up at Master Ren’s mask. He was seeking the man’s approval, eager to please. Master Ren paused in his steps then nodded, continuing to walk and telling your son that he was doing well. A large grin grew on Zolfen’s face.

 

It was the happiest you had ever seen him. You wiped at the tears that started to fall. You would do all that you could to ensure Zolfen smiled like that as often as possible.


	10. The Giving Tree

**Mother is God**

 

_The Giver sighed. “You’re right,” he said. “But then everyone would be burdened and pained. They don’t want that. And that’s the real reason The Receiver is so vital to them, and so honored. They selected me—and you—to lift that burden from themselves.”_

 

**Chapter Ten: The Giving Tree**

 

As Master Ren had predicted, Zolfen was able to locate the desired door with ease. Your son paused a yard away from the wooden object, twisted so that he could look over his shoulder at the Force user, and lifted one arm to point out the door. There was a quiver in his voice. This you attributed to nervousness; he did not want to disappoint the man who had not killed him when the elders had been willing to use him as some sort of sacrificial lamb. Master Ren gripped the lightsaber hilt, tugging the weapon off his belt and hitting the switch that ignited the blade. Its glow illuminated the surrounding area, giving everything a red tint. Zolfen’s wide eyes would not leave the weapon. Master Ren observed your child, the Force user allowing time for the boy to take in the sight. There was a sense of trust you could feel between them, one that was growing; and that was important given the role Zolfen would play.

 

“Which step is missing?” Master Ren asked, his voice deeper when he had his mask on. Zolfen at last turned away from the older male. He gestured with his hand to the door and answered that it was nearer to the bottom.

 

Master Ren gave a jerk of his head, which prompted one of the stormtroopers to take a step forward then another. The individual knelt down, pulling open the door. The hinges released a loud creak which indicated a lack of use. Those who tended the field were likely instructed to not touch the door. Or perhaps there were traps that were known to them, ones that could kill them. You hardly knew what to expect. Did the stench of death grow worse when one went underground? Or did the musk of the earth help to swallow it up? You were hoping that the latter would prove to be true.

 

The stormtrooper rose to their feet, shifting out of the way when Mater Ren began to walk closer to the opening. The red glow illuminated the entrance, and it allowed you to see the first of the steps that belonged to the staircase Zolfen had mentioned. Wooden stairs, as you had expected after your son had revealed that one was broken. Master Ren pressed the tip of his toe on the surface of the first step. He did not put his full weight onto it. He tested its sturdiness, opting to wait to begin his descent until he was certain that the stairs would not buckle immediately with foreign pressure. Judging things to have met his standards, the Force user placed his foot firmly on the wood and gestured with his free hand for the rest of you to follow after him.

 

Zolfen did not hesitate, your child skipping thrice before he arrived at the entrance. Master Ren had turned to observe him, his helmeted head cocked to the side. The Force user moved down four steps to allow more room for your child to follow after him. You wasted no time in closing the distance that had formed between you and your son. You wanted to be there to catch him if he tripped at all; even though he had clearly navigated these steps before, whereas you were a stranger to them. There was also the added fact that you doubted Master Ren would allow harm to come to the boy. As Chief of Law, your child was in a position of power. The one with whom the First Order would have the most contact, especially as he grew older. Master Ren could very well use the Force to help assist your son. Some of your worries began to fade upon realizing this.

 

The stormtroopers were walking behind you. All ensured that there was an acceptable distance so that no one was pushed forward, and also to where if a sudden halt was necessary, it would not result in chaos. Those with lights turned them on. You had a small light that had been given to you, although you kept it put away so that your hands were free in case your son needed your help.

 

As you moved further underground, you found that the stench of rot and decay was masked by the musky earth. It smelled of mold in places. Mildew. You were not sure if that came from the stairs, or something further inside. You placed a hand on the mask you had been given. It was doing its job, or at least you believed that it was. No one was acting worried.

 

The red glow of the lightsaber coupled with the darkness of the underground caused you to remember how it had been to give birth. Pain, red and hot and strange. The mask over your eyes keeping the world dark. Strange smells all around you. Voices from the medics and nursemaids.

 

You jerked back to reality when Master Ren uttered your name. “Careful in your steps.” Glancing down, you found that you had placed your foot on the very edge of a step, nearly missing it. Master Ren was stepping past the gap in the stairs. Zolfen reached forward for the hand that was offered to him, your son hopping past the broken step. Master Ren maneuvered the boy past him then reached for you. You lifted your hand without hesitation to allow the man to assist you. Trusting him was natural now, like second nature. Behind you, the stormtroopers navigated the last few steps on their own.

 

As you stepped so that you were alongside your son, you wondered what his smile would look like without the mask obscuring it. His eyes had pinched, his cheeks shifting. It had lighted his entire face, that grin you had observed before the journey underground had begun.

 

Zolfen patted your arm, and you looked down at him. Your son grabbed your sleeve, tugging on it and pulling you further into the chamber. There were two paths. You walked not far behind the boy, his hand never leaving your sleeve, down the rightmost path. The red glow revealed things directly in front of you. Master Ren was no more than a few steps behind at any given time.

 

Your eyebrows rose when the path came to a sudden end: a metal door. The technology was nothing you had realized your community owned. The elders kept it for their own selfish purposes. Had those who had left your son to die hid behind such barriers? They had not been behind this door, otherwise Master Ren would have already had the texts he sought.

 

Zolfen reached up with his free hand, those tiny fingers punching in a code that was on the panel beside the door. This was another reason Master Ren had brought your son with him. What would happen if the wrong passcode was put in? Likely everything would be destroyed. Perhaps with water. A fire. You did not know. You had only heard of such things from the tourists who visited your community.

 

The door slid open. Your jaw dropped then, a sense of awe filling you as you took in the stacks of containers. Zolfen gestured to several of the piles. Extra food, clothing, and money. The elders truly were far more selfish than ever you had realized.

 

“These will be used for your community,” Master Ren said. “All I require are the texts.”

 

The stormtroopers walked around you. They grabbed the various crates and boxes in order to bring them to the surface. They would only bring so much out at once; there was no need to overwhelm those in your society by revealing the extent of the deceit that had been upheld for generations of elders.

 

Zolfen’s eyebrows were drawn towards one another. This was another change for him, something that he was attempting to comprehend. Given his age, he quickly grew bored. You doubted he would remember much of this day—ah, how greatly you hoped that the horrors he had experienced, the hurt of being left to die would fade away with time. That was an upside of being young. You yourself recalled only so much of your early childhood. Master Ren’s words regarding the Jedi came back to you. There were many of your hopes that would become reality.

 

“This will make them happy,” you said quietly to Master Ren, who was busily sorting through some of the crates. Zolfen skipped over to the man, patting the leather glove of the hand that was not holding the lightsaber. The Force user allowed your son to take lead again and followed him to a corner in the room. The volumes of text were old. Ancient even. They looked more worn than any of the books those who had raised you had owned. “It will help the transition.”

 

“Yes,” Master Ren said, the single syllable soft and deep. He lifted one of the texts while Zolfen grasped a second in both of his hands. “These first steps in the transition are important. We cannot be viewed as being the enemy. We are not.”

 

You understood what he meant. It was why the sins of the society had been announced, the truth behind the decisions the elders had made. In the wake of the violence of the somewhat hostile takeover, those in your community did not know how to view those of the First Order. Being given the supplies would help to break some of the tension.

 

As you returned from the field to the buildings, you saw just how thick that tension was; it was like a haze that clouded the eyes of everyone you saw. Mistrust. Fear. Those things faded, albeit only slightly, when the stormtroopers placed the crates in the center of the makeshift stage and announced the objects inside were for those who needed them. It was a child who first approached one of the stormtroopers. Those in charge of caring for the eight-year old rushed forward. At first to stop the child, yet then to join her when she was handed a can of fruits. Slowly, those in your community stepped forward. Even the birthmothers—former birthmothers, you thought. There were some who jerked away from any contact with those who had been selected as birthmother. Others who tentatively touched their upper arms to assist them. Those who were currently pregnant were offered more support; you observed others—men, women and children alike—aiding in carrying supplies for them.

 

This was _not_ the community in which you had been raised. And that was… It was perfect. It was beautiful. It was everything you had secretly dreamed of ever since you had been assigned the role of birthmother.

 

Zolfen, too, was watching it all in awe. The mask no longer concealed any portion of his face. It was clasped in one of his hands, nearly dropping to the ground as his arms dangled lamely at his side. What caught his eye more than anything: the children. Those his age, those a little younger, a few who were slightly older. It was not that he was oblivious to their existence. He had likely been made to observe them. As far as interacting with them went…he hadn’t. It struck you that he would not have been allowed to, not until he was older so that there would be no _temptation_ of possible attachments.

 

And what of that now? Would the First Order allow him to interact with the other children? Or would they, too, view it as being detrimental to his development as leader.

 

Master Ren approached you. The texts he had sought were in a satchel that he now carried; as though he did not want to chance anyone else taking them. You wondered if that was how all Force users would be. “Master Ren?” He grunted in response, the visor of his helmet pointed your way. You nodded your head in Zolfen’s direction whilst gesturing towards the other children with your hand.

 

“Yes. It will be allowed,” he replied. “Eventually there are some who will replace the elders. His teachers will ensure that he properly differentiates logic and emotion. Alienating him is not necessary.”

 

Zolfen seemed to not realize that he was occasionally taking steps that took him further from you and closer to the children. You smiled at this, for the first time pleased with any distance that was placed between the two of you. You wanted this for him. Him to have a friend. To have hope. To experience the same sense of joy that had been given to you. To be able to see that smile that had been on his face in the fields, now as he played. You wanted more than anything to see your son enjoying himself.

 

You thought of the tree from the story that Master Ren had told you. The tree that was so happy to give any and everything to the boy, even when it meant he would be temporarily away from her. That was what you wanted for you son. That was what you would be for your son. You would give him everything so that he would experience joy…and, because of his joy, you would be happy.


	11. With Much Yet to Learn

**Mother is God**

 

_Jonas hesitated. “I certainly liked the memory, though. I can see why it’s your favorite. I couldn’t quite get the word for the whole feeling of it, the feeling that was so strong in the room.”_

_“Love,” The Giver told him._

_Jonas repeated it. “Love.” It was a word and concept new to him._

 

**Chapter Eleven: With Much Yet to Learn**

 

The distribution of supplies did not end once the items from the storage had been passed around to the various families and individuals. Now that the First Order was forming an official alliance with your community, the promised texts and instructors had arrived via two new transport shuttles. You marveled over how easy it was for the First Order to function with the absence of all these ships that were on the planet. The idea that there were hundreds—thousands?—more at their disposal left you in awe. You had stared up at the sky with your mouth wide open as they had descended. Master Ren and Zolfen had stood on either side of you.

 

Your son had been equally impressed by the technology that was at the First Order’s disposal. He began to display a sense of giddiness that devolved into a sense of shame. It was hard for you—as his mother and as a human being—to watch this. The blush that bloomed in his face, the way he turned away and muttered something under his breath. Likely words that had been spoken by the elders that had been raising him up to that point.

 

Without touching you, Master Ren had stepped closer as though in a maneuver of comfort. A reminder that the First Order would not be so cruel. Zolfen was not to be one of the First Order’s stormtroopers, all of whom were essentially _programmed_ to be soldiers. Pawns. You pitied them on some level while at the same time you understood that you did not know enough of war to fully judge the morality of the situation. The reminder that they were never given _false hope_ as you had been given by the elders of your community. The stormtroopers you had encountered were proud to serve. In the future, there would be stormtroopers who came from your society. Yet they would know little or nothing of their birthplace. Perhaps that was for the better. It would be less painful for them. No sense of betrayal.

 

You only wondered what would become of them once the war was won. It had not even fully blossomed into being as of yet.

 

All that you knew was that you had much to learn of the galaxy. This was another thing that the First Order ensured occurred. Textbooks were brought in as well as a handful of instructors. Most were only there on a temporary basis. Different age groups would be granted different levels of education. Everyone was afforded the basics. Zolfen, however, was the First Order’s priority. It was a lot for a three-year old to handle, you thought whilst peeking up from the book that had been given to you. It was a refresher course on the basics that you had learned prior to being selected as a birthmother.

 

There were a handful of subjects that came easily to you. Like riding a speeder, some said. You had stared blankly at this; it was not that you were unaware of the existence of speeders, but more that you had never ridden one. Other areas caused you pause or else baffled you completely. The first time you had encountered such a subject, you had been sitting beside Zolfen. Your son had blinked up at you. It surprised him that an adult could be ignorant of things that were taught to all students. In this way you learned that he had not been told everything about birthmothers. He knew that they had babies, but not that they were essentially ostracized the moment they were chosen. Realizing that you were embarrassed, Zolfen had scooted closer and, tilting his head to the side, informed you that _he_ didn’t know what _that_ was either.

 

That he had sought to comfort you had left you feeling warm. Your initial embarrassment died away, and you were not dissuaded from studying near him even if it meant that you had to utilize the help of some of _his_ instructors. This Master Ren had ensured would not be an issue. More and more the Force user was adamant that you remained in Zolfen’s life. Your son was driven to study as well even if only to mimic you. It was a strange way to bond, you thought—not that you had any _real_ experience in that field. Parenting was new to you. Cooking was a skill that you were picking up a little more easily.

 

Master Ren was the one to instruct you in that final field. Dishes that were more complex than any you had prepared in the past took several times for you to succeed. Master Ren was an active participant the first time you would cook a dish, while in the subsequent tries, he would be seated nearby and studying the texts that he had secured from the field.

 

Presently you looked up from the pot that was filled with water. You were waiting for it to boil before moving on to the next step. In the interim, you wanted to see how Zolfen was faring. Your son was seated across from Master Ren at a small, circular table. The two of them had their different books. Zolfen was learning to read and write. His grip on the stylus was awkward. This, you had been told, was normal for his age. The First Order instructor was seated on a chair a little ways off, the woman reading a holonovel. She was one of the more patient of his instructors, someone you were growing to like. Master Ren was entranced by whatever information he was being given from the text.

 

Zolfen slumped his shoulders, the boy slouching in his chair. His attention span was waning. Master Ren looked up from his texts. “How close are you to being finished?” Rather than give a verbal answer, your son pushed the object on which he had been writing closer to the older male. A smile tugged at Master Ren’s lips. “Math.”

 

“Lots of numbers,” Zolfen groaned with a pout. He slumped further down in his seat, nearly sliding off of it completely. The boy lifted up both of his hands and wiggled his fingers. “One. Two. Three. Four. Five.” Both you and Master Ren waited with bated breath. Zolfen wrinkled his nose, dropped his hands back onto the chair, and pushed himself upwards. “It hurts my head.”

 

Master Ren’s gaze darted to the instructor. She was already getting to her feet. “I suppose a quick break is in order—so long as you promise to finish this page before the day is done.” Zolfen nodded enthusiastically. He hopped to his feet and raced out of the room before anyone could change their mind.

 

Your eyebrows rose. “Oh my.”

 

“The changes are overwhelming him,” the instructor said. Her name was Rianae, and she had come from a planet in the Outer Rim before joining the First Order. “He was already being groomed by the elders to be separate from those his age. He is…advanced.” You nodded, not seeing the issue. “Children notice when others are smarter. For them, it’s threatening. More like an adult, which causes them to pull away.”

 

You had noticed that there were occasions during which Zolfen would be sitting apart from the other children. Master Ren often wandered over to your son in those moments. It had never occurred to you that there was anything largely horrible. After all, Master Ren seemed able to connect with Zolfen more because of this behavior.

 

With Rianae bringing it up, though, you realized that Master Ren must have experienced such things in his life. Connecting with others yet being distant from them. He saw himself in your son and was taking on an almost fatherly role.

 

This thought caused your stomach to clench. You liked that idea. Master Ren being a father to your son. But it was too much to ask of him; he had already given so much to your community, to you, and to your son. This connection that he had with Zolfen went deeper than any you had observed from nurturers and children. It was closer to what the tourists had. That—tenderness? It had always been something you could recognize and yet not fully explain when you observed it. After you had been assigned the role of birthmother, you had longed for it far more than ever you could say.

 

Rianae closed the distance between herself and you. You snapped back to the present as she lifted the ingredients to add them. “You should rest, too. It’s a lot for everyone here.” Master Ren’s brown eyes shifted to your face. You met his gaze. “Some of the birthmothers have agreed to participate with the stormtrooper program. Others are still deciding. At least three wish to keep their children. I believe one of them is in labor today.”

 

You knew of whom she was speaking. The birthmother who was currently giving birth was having her third child. She would have been made to tend the field after this. Now, though… Now she would be raising her baby. It _was_ overwhelming. You felt so overcome with emotions. Relief. Joy. A slight edge of terror. Tears gathered in your eyes. You moved away from the stove and took the seat in which Zolfen had previously been sitting.

 

“They will accept him. They’re learning,” Master Ren said to you. “One in particular is rather intrigued. A little girl.”

 

“I noticed her too,” you said, relaxing and running a hand through your hair. The young girl was two years old and enjoyed tagging along with Zolfen whenever she was out to play. “One year seems so large right now.”

 

“This is when children change the most.” It was Rianae who responded to you. Both you and Master Ren looked in her direction. She gestured to the text that Zolfen had left behind. “They also learn best at this age it seems.”

 

A noise to your right drew your attention. Zolfen was seated on the floor so that he could pull on shoes. He wanted to play outside though he had not yet asked for permission. You waited for him to do so. It was said that it would be best for you to not remind him immediately. If he moved to the door before asking, you _would_ ask. Zolfen stood, took three steps, and then paused. His shoulders slumped. Zolfen turned, staring at the floor as he mumbled a request to go outside to play.

 

You did not hesitate in replying. He needed this. “Just stay where I can see you.” There was a large window in the living room that was visible even from where you sat at the table. Zolfen looked up at you, flashed a smile, and darted out with renewed vigor.

 

Zolfen played outdoors until the food was ready. At that point, the four of you—Master Ren, Zolfen, Rianae, and you—ate the meal that had been prepared. Your son finished his work shortly afterwards, this time not slouching or complaining. He was in much better spirits after having been given time to be a kid. Rianae did not stay in the house for much longer afterwards. It had previously belonged to one of the elders and would have been passed down to Zolfen when he had become older. Master Ren had found it best to move you now though. It gave Zolfen a room of his own, and the other he shared with you.

 

Master Ren never studied the texts on the Force when he was in bed with you. Instead, he was more preoccupied with mapping out your body or else teaching you how to pleasure him. Oral sex was less awkward than you had believed it would be. He enjoyed it though. Master Ren tended to run his hands through your hair whilst rocking his hips. He was never too harsh.

 

When he pleasured you, he never seemed to get enough. It was overwhelming at times, although not in a bad way. You had to remind yourself to breathe—there were occasions that Master Ren relented so that you could gather yourself. “Kylo,” he whispered at last. It was another new thing, calling him Kylo instead of Master Ren. You enjoyed that part best of all. Laying beside him post orgasm and whispering his name rather than his title. And he would say your name in response.

 

“You hate it,” he said. You furrowed your brow as you attempted to sort through the various things he could be referring to. “They told you to not hover over Zolfen when he plays outside. The nurturers are allowed to.”

 

“He’s so young. So small.”

 

“You are a good mother to him.” You pressed your lips to his chest, caressing his abdomen. You hooked your leg over both of his. “Mm.” Kylo Ren cupped your face with both of his hands. He rolled you over, his mouth claiming yours as he rocked his hips forward. You shuddered underneath him. “Don’t worry. The stormtroopers are watching him. Protecting him. And I am watching as well.”

 

“I trust you,” you said, winding your arms around his neck. His mouth met yours again. Master Ren moved inside of you, stretching and filling you. “I’m not afraid with you here.” He nuzzled you and whispered your name.


	12. Understanding Her Children

**Mother is God**

 

 _Lily grinned. “I have a_ better _idea for one more story,” she announced. “What if actually we were_ all _twins and didn’t know it, and so Elsewhere there would be another Lily, and another Jonas, and another Father, and another Asher, and another Chief Elder, and another—”_

_Father groaned. “Lily,” he said. “It’s bedtime.”_

 

**Chapter Twelve: Understanding Her Children**

 

Where Zolfen’s instructors learned to hold back when it came to pressing him into studying his textbooks, they became enthusiastic in assisting you in your studies. You were to act as one of the liaisons between your planet and the First Order; this was largely due to the fact that you were the nurturer—mother, you would correct yourself—of the Chief of Law. Zolfen was apt to listen to you, to look to you for advice. The First Order would not sever this connection, but instead utilize it. Master Ren did not interfere when it came to these changes. His focus remained on studying the texts as well as observing Zolfen. Your son’s social life was improving, although the other children still sometimes pulled away.

 

The birthmothers looked to you for answers. In a way, you were a pioneer. The first birthmother who had joined with the First Order and experienced what it was like to have _choice_. Most who were older chose to not worry about continuing their education. They had the right street smarts, so to speak, and wished to devote their time to raising the children they would or had given birth to. As for those who had been selected yet were not yet old enough to have been impregnated, they awkwardly returned to the school that had always resided in your community.

 

It was this younger generation that terrified you. Teenagers, Kylo Ren said, were naturally rebellious. They greedily used up the supplies that had been taken from the field and demanded more. Now that there were no elders to keep them in check, now that the rules were changing, the youth were quick to disregard the First Order. They not only used their freedom, they abused it. Crime spiked, mostly petty thefts. _If we’re free, why do we have to answer to **you**?_ That was a line you heard many a times.

 

Not once did the younger crowd attempt to backtalk to Master Ren, however. They had seen what he was capable of. The man could harness the powers of the Force, and with that alone he had earned their respect.

 

The tourists who remained made matters worse. The teenagers were fed a bias against a child such as Zolfen being placed in the position of leader. Kylo Ren hardly left Zolfen’s side. He carried the texts with him so that his studies were not interrupted. The teenagers could only glare or look at your son in disgust. You were able to hear their whispers. How _small_ the child was. They were jealous, you noted. In the same way that _you_ had been envious of those who had always had more freedom than you—those who could _choose_ —the youth coveted Zolfen’s position of power.

 

Had your community been correct in not allowing such greed?

 

 _But they did_ , you reminded yourself. _Sexual greed at least. And hoarding…the elders were greedy. It’s been here all along, simply buried._

 

You realized without any of the instructors or Captain Phasma or Kylo Ren that the reason the First Order had not pulled out once the alliance had been made was to ensure that the greed did not overwhelm your community. It would have torn itself apart otherwise, a truly terrifying thought for you. Above all else, Zolfen needed the protection that was being provided. Despite the presence of the stormtroopers that guarded Zolfen, you relaxed only because of Kylo Ren. As you had informed him, you were not afraid with him there. Yet as time continued to go on, you knew that eventually he _would_ leave. You would then have to rely on the stormtroopers—and yourself.

 

Weapons were not distributed to the people of your community. For good reason, you noted as you recalled all the greed that was already being entertained. You were one of the few individuals who was being trained to use a blaster correctly. The First Order confiscated most other weapons; on a temporary basis, they claimed. You did not know how much you believed them when it came to this. This was not something you would protest, however, given that it did make Zolfen safer.

 

A birthmother that you were privately tutoring—this assisted in _your_ learning as well—sat on a bench that was several feet behind you while you adjusted your aim. The shooting range was crude in design, and it received most of its patrons in the form of stormtroopers. A handful of tourists had excitedly paid what you believed to be a ridiculous amount of credits in order to utilize the facility. Not that you were about to dissuade them, of course. The funds would be used for both the First Order and your community. This had been by Kylo Ren’s design, a sort of reward after the first baby from your community had been enlisted in the stormtrooper program.

 

It was… You hardly had the words to describe how you felt when you watched the ship carry away the child into the sky. Up to one of the larger First Order vessels, what people referred to as a Star Destroyer. It had been the mother’s choice. You wanted to respect that even if you yourself had a hard time understanding how _anyone_ would not want their own child.

 

“There are many reasons one could feel that way,” Kylo had murmured when you had at last voiced your thoughts to him. “It is their right.”

 

For now, you looked over your shoulder at the birthmother—former birthmother, you scolded yourself—after having fired your weapon. She was peeking up from the book you had given her to read. It held the tale that Kylo Ren had told you of the tree. A child’s book one would say. Yet how you loved it. Its pictures. Its words. The power of the story itself, which was deepened with how it had played a part in your history, your transformation. The young woman who was holding it was not old enough to have been impregnated. She had been selected mere months before the First Order had arrived. Reading, though, had never been a strong point for her.

 

“Will I still become pregnant?” she asked, her brow furrowed. She pinched her lips together whilst wincing. As though she had said something wrong.

 

Your eyes darted to the side. Lowering your weapon and turning on the safety, you handed it to the stormtrooper who had stepped up to you. After this you walked over to the bench and sat down beside the other female. “It’s all about choice now. Whether we want to take the medicine to help us with fertility. The medicine to stop it. To have a child. To…have…sex.” You cleared your throat. “If you do have a child, you get to choose now. To raise the child. To have a nurturer raise the child. To allow the First Order to raise the child in the stormtrooper program. It’s so much, I know.”

 

Her thumbs trailed up and down along the page of the book. Most, Kylo Ren had informed you, used holonovels. He had had a physical copy of the tale brought to you though. A gift. You had the distinct impression that he did not often give gifts to anyone at all, and so you cherished the object all the more. You reached to the side, placed your hand atop hers so that you were also touching the book, and stared down at the page she had opened to. It was not her first time making it through the text. You had sat beside her in the past. She, like you, had simply fallen in love with the tale. You knew that she _did_ want to be a mother someday. When she was ready.

 

It meant the world to you that she now had the choice. She would know if and when she was ready. And she was good with children. Zolfen adored her. Your son had been so deprived of affection that he had a tendency to seek out attention almost anywhere. This was a large reason that the First Order wanted to be involved in his development. They could not have desperation driving decisions from the Chief of Law. They also did not wish to have a completely cold and distant being as the elders had desired of Zolfen. That would cause an uprising; the people, with their new freedom and freed greed, would despise a leader who was too callous.

 

“I always felt so different from the other birthmothers. I worried that I was the only one who longed for my child. I had… We weren’t supposed to, but I named Zolfen when he was inside of me. Asher is what I used to call him.” She mouthed the name, her lips shifting into a soft smile that erased some of the lines of worry that had been present. “I’m one of the lucky ones. Not all birthmothers have been reunited with their children, even the ones who want it. It is—Master Ren said that for the older children it can be confusing and hurtful. To be taken away from the nurturers at this point, all they have known.”

 

“I was told that my birthmother went to the field after I was born,” your companion said. You stared straight ahead, not wanting to cause her to become self-conscious. Zolfen was currently with Kylo Ren so that he could better understand the Force. It was important, what with how your society continued to regard it. Their interactions helped to solidify the alliance. As for you, you felt suddenly as though you had gained a second child—a third, counting the one that you had lost. A child, or perhaps a younger sibling. “She died. The ones who were still alive in the field said that she passed away. I was one of the few female children born that month. I have her eyes and mouth they told me. And I don’t know… I don’t know how I feel about that. Zolfen is lucky. He’s young. He gets to have this information early.”

 

There was a strain to her voice. Pain. Hurt. It occurred to you in that moment that some of the petty crimes being committed by the youth in your community was their way of coping with the change. Their hurt. The understanding that they had been taken away from a mother that may have wanted them. Or that they had been created through an act of rape. What of _you_?

 

You did not want to think about it. You had Zolfen, and you would be strong for him. Strong for others, like this young woman beside you.

 

No wonder the teenagers stared at Zolfen as they did. He had been reunited with his mother. There was less confusion for him in the sense that he did not have to choose between the nurturer who had raised him—there had been none—and his birthmother. For the others, that was their fate. That was their burden. To decide whether or not they wanted to learn of their history. If they had been wanted at all. If, like the former birthmother beside you, their mother had been sent away to die.

 

You swallowed at the sensation of something thick in your throat. Winding an arm around the young woman, you drew her closer. She did not protest. The book slipped to the ground, and you found that you did not care. You were too focused on holding her trembling form as she cried. Her tears wet the front of your shirt.

 

“Lily,” you whispered. She hiccupped at the sound of her name spilling from your lips. “Are… Did the nurturer who raised you welcome you back?” Another painful reality for the former birthmothers. Lily shook her head in the negative. “Come live with Zolfen and me. Soon… We will soon have another room open.”

 

Master Ren and Captain Phasma would be leaving in under a week’s time. You dreaded the upcoming absence of Kylo Ren. He meant more to you than you knew how to voice. It was an emotion you tamped down. You could not allow such sentiments to distract you. Not when you had to focus on yourself, learning the things you had missed in school. Not when you had to focus on Zolfen, learning how to protect him with the weapons, how to teach him, being there for him as a mother. And now, you knew that you could not allow those emotions to overwhelm you because you had to be strong for others. For years you had somehow been prepared for this change. Having longed for it, the changes were less foreign to you than they were to people like Lily.

 

“Are you sure?” she asked between hiccups and barely-held-in sobs. You stroked your fingers through her hair as you had done with both Zolfen and Kylo in the past. At the sound of your affirmative hum, her tears only increased. The difference was that they were no longer tears of sorrow.

 

Rianae and a male instructor of Zolfen’s had taken to living in one of the neighboring buildings. Along with them were several stormtroopers who would be remaining even once Phasma and Ren left. Neither of them thought poorly of your decision to take in Lily. Zolfen was thrilled with the idea, your son even dividing up several of his toys and textbooks for her. While the former was a sweet gesture, the latter had you raising an eyebrow and smiling down at your son. Lily would _not_ be doing his work. Zolfen’s lip protruded, however he became easily distracted with a story you began to tell him. It was one of your favorite parts of the day. After Rianae or the other instructors had left, you had time to sit with your son before dinner or bed—sometimes both—and tell him a story.

 

Zolfen reciprocated the gesture. He would babble on about either real or imagined events of the day. More often than not he insisted that Kylo was present when he spoke. The Force user did not disappoint your child. Which, naturally, made Ren’s departure hit Zolfen harder.

 

That night, you held in your tears of apprehension and loss. Curled up against you on one side was Zolfen. You held tightly onto him, your hand stroking up and down. He had long since fallen asleep, however there was residual wetness from his tears. As for Lily, she laid on your other side. She was not yet asleep, and she was not crying. Yet nights were always hard for her. She missed her nurturer, who did not want her. She wished that she had been able to meet her birthmother, to know if the woman would have wanted her.

 

Before he had left, Kylo Ren had again stared at you with a sense of awe. His kiss had been more tender yet somehow far more passionate than ever before. As though both of you were attempting to convey that there _was_ some deep connection that could not yet be explored, not fully.

 

As you laid there, you remembered the kiss. Lily was breathing more evenly, close to losing consciousness.

 

This was a different sense of loss than when you had lost the unborn child. It was different than when Zolfen had been taken from you at birth. For them, it had been the loss of a child. Kylo Ren was not a child to you, not someone for you to nurture. He was—you loved him differently, had connected with him differently.

 

_It is true that it is not a mere blood connection that determines family._

 

He had spoken those words to you when he had been present in the capacity of an honored guest. They were true. You had learned in numerous ways how they were true. The way you felt for him. The way he felt for Zolfen. How Zolfen, in turn, adored Ren. And Lily. Oh, how you loved her. You still could not say if she was like a daughter or a sister. In many respects, she was both to you.

 

And so you ached that a part of your family had been taken away. He would not be absent forever. You knew this; he had said as much, whispered the words to you when the two of you had been moving together as one. He would be back. For now he had to assist the First Order in growing and succeeding. Meanwhile, _you_ would assist your community in similar tasks. Adapting. Growing. Succeeding.

 

Somehow, you told yourself, you would use your own pain at this loss to help you understand those who were aching. Those who feared rejection and so acted out with greed, with jealousy. You could help them and you would.


	13. As Progress Is Made

**Mother is God**

 

_“I was so devastated by my own grief at her loss, and my own feeling of failure, that I didn’t even try to help them through it. I was angry too.”_

 

**Chapter Thirteen: As Progress is Made**

 

Two weeks following Kylo Ren’s departure, Zolfen at last said that he wanted to sleep in his own bed. A small part of you was disappointed in this; you wanted nothing more than to spend as much time with your son now that you were reunited with him. As for Lily, she had taken to remaining in her room alone for many hours the day after Ren had left. You insisted that she keep the door open, and though she had frowned and begun to protest, she ultimately complied. Perhaps she knew that you were no stranger to glum thoughts. She had to know that you wished to protect her. Given that she thanked you whenever you brought food to her room so that she would not have to leave, you had a strong feeling that she did know.

 

Her depression was understandable given that she was attempting to not only cope with the changes in the community, but coming to terms with the fact that she was unwanted by those who had raised her. She felt rejected, unworthy. She felt…like a birthmother, you thought with a cringe. These were the exact feelings you had been forced to come to terms with when you had been selected. Master Ren had not allowed you to sulk indefinitely. He had nudged you towards a better goal. Given you a purpose. Thus you permitted Lily some time to sleep during most of the day before assigning simple household chores to her.

 

You did not neglect your studies even while you tended to Lily and Zolfen. Your learning branched to different mediums though. One of Zolfen’s mentors, a man by the name of Connoral, encouraged you to begin studying behavior by watching those in your community. It was a task you had done in the past, especially when you had been looking for your son. Now, however, you would be searching for what your community still needed. What was holding it back? Which behaviors were things that would require you to study texts for.

 

In the past, you had never believed that you would be reading from a text specializing in adolescent psychology. It was hard to _not_ notice again and again the hurt displayed by the youth. It was in your home as well. Zolfen was adapting far better than Lily. She had moments where she would glower at your son in unconcealed jealousy. Resentment. She wanted her mother, be it the one who had given birth to her or the one who had raised her.

 

“If you bicker with him again,” you began, cutting off Lily’s harsh words to Zolfen, who was sniffling indignantly, “I swear there _will_ be consequences.”

 

“He has it so easy!” she wailed desperately. The resentment had left her. She looked to your child with the hint of an apology though she did not verbalize those sentiments. “I wish… If they had come sooner, before I was selected as birthmother, I wouldn’t… I’d have people who loved me.”

 

“I love you,” Zolfen said automatically. Tears descended down Lily’s cheeks. She dropped down to her knees and embraced the boy. He happily hugged her, patting her back and repeating those three words. He was only recently learning the power in them. Each time you whispered those words to him, namely at night before bed and in the morning when he awoke, he would grin widely.

 

What pained Lily most, something she would not say aloud, was that some of the other birthmothers were seeking out their children. Not all were allowed to do so; the nurturers had protested the reunion in some of the cases. Others were given visitation though. Those children and teenagers were wanted by their nurturers and birthmothers both. Lily, meanwhile, had no one.

 

This influenced what you looked out for in your observations. The community was dividing into groups. Those who were adapting more easily were beginning to shun the teenagers and younger adults that were struggling. There needed to be unity in the community.

 

For so long they had looked to the elders for advice when such divisions began. The First Order personnel were far too busy dealing with tourists and, obviously, First Order business to have time to spare to assist.

 

You stood with a cup of hot tea while observing Lily and Zolfen interact. The young woman had finished her household chores, and now she was playing a game with the boy before he had to delve into more schooling. The child Chief of Law interacting with someone who would have previously been considered an outcast. Your eyes bulged as this hit you. You looked to Rianae, whom you were closest to amongst all of Zolfen’s teachers.

 

“Would it interfere with Zolfen’s studies if we had the children and teenagers gather? Perhaps in smaller groups. I want them to feel that they can discuss the changes, that their voices are heard. I believe it will have more of an impact with Zolfen present.”

 

“Hmm… He will likely require extra guards until we are certain that this is safe. I will run it by my superiors to see what they think.” You nodded your thanks to her and then turned back to observe the two.

 

Festivals and events had always brought the community together. Though the birthmothers had been forced to stand on the fringes, everyone else had bonded. There needed to be something that would bring them together, that would allow those you observed to feel more a part of the community. The only way to learn what that something was would be to talk with them. You smiled whilst sipping the tea. Zolfen looked over his shoulder at you, waving for you to join in on the game. He still did not fully understand that once certain games were started, it was unfair for others to jump in. That did not mean that you would not sit down beside him to watch.

 

Days later you looked back on that moment; being able to sit with the pair of them, your family that was connected by more than simply blood. You had not considered then how many of the adolescents and children would join the group. Cards had been brought for in case any did not wish to speak, as this would still encourage socialization. The cards were untouched, however, and one boy in particular stared at Lily. He was one of those who had glowered at Zolfen in the past. Now he did not pay your son much attention at all. When he spoke—and he was one of the first to speak—there was bitterness in his voice. He told of how his nurturers were not particularly fond of his grades in school as of late. They commented that if his birthmother had still been living, then perhaps they would have sent him away. Meanwhile they doted on his younger brother. He loved his brother, he said; but recently he had started to… His hesitation allowed time for your heart to hammer in your chest as you anticipated the word, and yet it did not come.

 

He could not bring himself to say that he hated his brother. Instead he sneered in the direction of younger boys and then again transferred his attention to Lily, his expression softening to yearning.

 

“I don’t know where I fit here,” he said softly. There were murmurs of agreement and shared sentiment from the group. “I’m too old to be a stormtrooper. They say the unborn babies are selected. Not us. We’re stuck here. I received my assignment, but… Now that we have a choice, I don’t know what to do. I don’t want them to reject me more if I choose the wrong career.”

 

Several others who shared had similar stories. For many, their nurturers maintained a tight bond, and yet the question of their birthmothers was present now. Some of the children did not want to meet their birthmothers even when their nurturers were willing. For others, it was the reverse. They _did_ want to meet the birthmother, and the nurturers desired otherwise. They were confused in this, and on top of that the older crowd had to also choose whether or not they would stick with the career path that had been chosen for them. It was not only the birthmothers who were lost when it came to this new freedom. To an extent, _everyone_ was experiencing it.

 

There were numerous youths who did not speak. They would occasionally nod or shake their heads when another was talking. A handful did not even do this; they maintained a stoic expression. The smaller children, meanwhile, had a tendency to break off and play. Their attention span was not that large, and no one chastised them. Zolfen joined those his age, which meant that the stormtroopers assigned to guard him left your side. It was on these occasions during which more of the teenagers and children opened up.

 

It was not always about themselves that they spoke. They also remarked on their nurturers, neighbors, and even posed questions to one another. Most had believed it was forbidden to speak so openly in this way, which is why they had come—to see if it was true. The elders had dissuaded them from gathering in the past.

 

The teenagers also wished to speak of how the birthmothers had been selected. They are curious about it, horrified, mystified. Sex was never truly discussed in school, or at least not when you had been attending classes. Such things were taught to the birthmothers. Or, rather, they were told to them. How one was to lie still while the man entered her. You did not explain this to those who wanted to know, not quite yet. You gestured instead to the gathered children, and offered to later divide everyone into age-based groups for future meetings.

 

Adults wished to attend as well, and the next time you gathered, the nurturers also pressed to know more of how the birthmothers were selected. The First Order had indeed informed them of much, and yet they wanted to know now how much had been told to the birthmothers ahead of time. Some averted their gazes, and it was evident in their behavior that they had known. Any number of the men gathered had once lain with a birthmother. Or even multiple birthmothers. The conversations were delicate. Not only did the youth have to wonder about their birthmothers, but now they were curious in regards to which man was their blood relation.

 

“The records are being sorted through by Zolfen’s instructors,” you said timidly. “It _will_ all be revealed. I’ve been told it’s one step at a time.”

 

With that out of the way, conversation turned again to the selection of birthmothers. To what the birthmothers were taught once they were given their assignment. Lily spoke then, telling her story. Another birthmother began to speak, one who was pregnant with her third child. A former birthmother who had returned from the field then spoke. Shame crossed the faces of many in your community. This shattered place was attempting to pick up the pieces. Hands clumsily grasping for one another. Apologies spoken.

 

Others had no shame. They resented the change, and you knew that this was the reason it was imperative that Zolfen had guards with him. Only a few of the children were among those who rejected the changes. The majority were older, and because of this you could hardly blame them. It had been their entire life, just as it had been yours. Change was never easy. It was not for you that you wanted this change, however; it was for your son and Lily, and all these other faces who looked to you for help. The bitterness directed at Zolfen began to fade from those who found a sense of shame upon learning how exactly the elders had run things behind the scenes. The greed and perversion.

 

The youth who gathered at the future meetings began to refer to you as _godmother_. You knit your brow when first you heard the term, your mind flashing to Kylo Ren. Oh, how you yearned for his presence. The boy who had called you the name smiled at you and explained that one of the tourists had told him that on some planets parents chose godparents so that if they passed away before the child was raised, the child would be in their care. The title was given to someone who was so trusted and so loved. The boy gestured to Zolfen and Lily. “You took Lily in. And you’re the mother of the Chief of Law. You’re looking out for all of us. I think we should call you that. _I_ want to call you my godmother.”

 

“You may,” you said, smiling warmly.

 

It was not only to you that they looked upon with respect. Zolfen was involved in smaller tasks so that he could have hands-on experience for when he was older. One of his instructors and a chosen mediator from the community also attended. The three of them had to discuss matters together to prevent a bias, and also to ensure that Zolfen understood all that was being said.

 

Zolfen liked having advisors in this way. They did not pressure him as the elders had. He was allowed to excuse himself from matters that he did not understand. While he did have the final say—or, at least, he would when he was older—it was decided that the practice of having two other parties to weigh in would be beneficial. It would be different than the elders; if one of the parties was discovered to be using their position for selfish purposes, they would be dismissed.

 

The young man who had stared at Lily during that first meeting announced that he wished to receive the proper education in order to become one of Zolfen’s advisors. “That is wonderful news, Will,” you said.

 

“Thank you, godmother,” he replied. Two others his age were ecstatic at the announcement. They had also chosen which career path they would be following. Another had decided to keep what had been assigned to her. It fit her personality well, she said brightly. “You will be a great nurse.”

 

As you tucked Zolfen into bed that night, you again thought of Kylo Ren. You wondered if he knew of the progress that had been made. It had been months since he had left. And in that time, no one had forgotten him. Your son would often look out his window at the stars and say a soft _Goodnight, Master Ren_.

 

“I love you, Zolfen,” you said then pressed your lips to his forehead.

 

“I love you,” he whispered back, reaching for your hand and toying with your fingers. “He’s coming back.”

 

“I know.” You did know, even if you were uncertain as to _when_. It did not matter though. If Kylo Ren arrived sooner, it meant you would be in his arms that much more quickly. If it was later, that much more progress would have been made in your community. You knew it meant so much to him, to see how he had helped to improve the galaxy. “You need to get some rest now.” Zolfen stifled a yawn with one hand while pointing toward the bookshelf with his other. You were only too happy to read him a bedtime story.


	14. Here for His Return

**Mother is God**

 

_“The worst part of holding the memories is not the pain. It’s the loneliness of it. Memories need to be shared.”_

 

**Chapter Fourteen: Here for His Return**

An announcement preceded Master Ren’s return to your community. The chrome armored trooper known as Captain Phasma would not be joining him. She had visited a month previous in unison with the change in which First Order stormtroopers were stationed there. Zolfen did not require quite as many personal guards now that the changes in your community were on way. Will, too, had a single guard with him when he traveled. The young man was taking his future job and thus his current education seriously. There were those belonging to the group not thrilled with the changes who made their distaste well known. The First Order would not risk Will’s life; and neither would Zolfen, who voiced that he wanted Will ‘safe from mean people’. This was something that Captain Phasma had seen to personally. The announcement of Master Ren’s impending arrival came in part because a new mother had chosen to allow her son to be sent to the stormtrooper program. One of the stormtroopers who was in your community would be leaving in a transport shuttle that was arriving along with the Command Shuttle.

 

Zolfen did not sleep well, your son being far too excited at the news. He kept you up as well. You remained in his bed, dosing off and on. When you did awake, you generally found him peering out the window. Zolfen told you how he remembered Kylo Ren. The way he described the mask that Ren wore brought a smile to your face. You wrapped your arms around him, drew him down into a laying position, and stroked his hair while he talked. He continued to stare at the window at the stars all the while. There was no way you could convince him to allow you to close the curtains, however this did not bother you.

 

As Zolfen spoke of Kylo Ren, he also expressed an interest in traveling amongst the stars. He wished to see the sights that had inspired many of the stories told to him by his instructors. There would be occasions in the future where he would board a First Order vessel and visit some of those places. He would be older though, and you would likely be left behind. This gave you such a mixture of feelings. You wanted your son to be able to live out his dreams. It didn’t mean that you wouldn’t miss him. But, oh, that he could already name many of the constellations to which he pointed—you were left in such a state of awe. These were facts that even you had not been taught.

 

In the morning, it was all you could do to keep your eyes open. Zolfen, meanwhile, was a bundle of energy even though he had gotten less sleep than you. The downside to all that energy was that he had difficulties paying attention during his lessons. You could not interject when it came to his studies; all of the warnings from Ren replayed in your head. You would do nothing that would result in you being removed from your son’s life. A newer instructor by the name Vinjex had given you a warning the previous week for offering input on how Zolfen should be reprimanded for failing to complete an assignment. They were strict in your opinion. Sometimes unreasonably so.

 

Lily was not particularly fond of some of the instructors either. She had a tendency to avoid them by leaving the house or else remaining in her room until they left. This time she chose the latter of the two methods, which allowed you to excuse yourself while also remaining in hearing range. Lily, headphones in her ears, peeked up and offered you a fleeting smile. She said nothing. You appreciated how much she understood you and your need to protect Zolfen in any way that you could. She occasionally paused her music to listen as well.

 

You rolled your eyes whilst shaking your head as you listened to Vinjex tell Zolfen that Commander Ren would be displeased to hear that he was being reduced to a source of distraction. You couldn’t help but wonder if the man forgot how young your son was.

 

Vinjex was not present when Kylo Ren entered your home. Neither was Zolfen. Three of your son’s instructors had taken him out for more hands-on learning. Lily had been granted permission to go with, and Will was also to be present for his own education.

 

Initially you were uncertain if the black-robed being _was_ Kylo Ren. There were some differences in how he dressed, though the effect was much the same. You were rooted to your chair as you stared at him. He, in turn, did not move from the doorway that led from the hallway. The last you had heard, the Command Shuttle had been set to arrive later in the evening. You had not known how you would react to him, what you would say. You certainly hadn’t expected to be shocked into silence. He wasn’t saying anything either. The helmet filtered his breathing, and only a single time did it produce a strange crackling, as though he had started to speak.

 

Ultimately neither of you needed words for you to at last rise and lead him to the bedroom.

 

You took your bottom lip between your teeth, closed your eyes, and began to move from memory. The clothing that you wore now was different from the robes you had worn when last you and Kylo Ren had been together. You were different people. There had been so many changes in your life as you did what you could to assist those in your community cope with the changes. As for Ren, you knew that he had dyed his hands in sin again and again to further that change. You turned to face him when you had removed your clothing save for your undergarments. Reaching forward, you offered both your hands to him. Kylo had not undressed. He stood there, as though frozen, and stared at you. The leather gloves were cool to the touch when he placed his hands in yours; there had been little hesitation on his part to accept your grasp.

 

“You still want me,” he murmured, as though in awe. You could not help but give a small chuckle while responding with a simple _of course_ as you placed his hands onto your shoulders and busied yourself with his robes. Another static-like sound emitted from the vocoder. Kylo Ren stepped closer to you. His fingers were tracing your upper arms and neck. You tilted back your head, lips parting to allow one of those gloved digits inside your mouth. You wrapped your tongue around it, sucking lightly, similarly to when you had performed oral sex on him. “You seem happier now.”

 

You hummed in agreement, not pausing in any of your actions. Ren shifted closer once more, the tips of his booted feet touching your bare toes. You placed your hands on either side of his helmet where you knew the latches were located. When he did not push you away nor pull out of your grasp, you pressed those latches and heard that familiar hissing noise as the mask was released. Kylo Ren withdrew his hand from your mouth, both of his limb covering yours and assisting you in removing the object that was blocking his eyes from your view. They were the same shade of brown that you remembered. The lines etched on his face spoke of temporary fatigue, which was either from previous missions or his more recent journey. Despite that exhaustion, he looked peaceful to you. Content.

 

Assured now that you did indeed still want him, Kylo Ren wasted little time in dropping the helmet and stripping out of his robes. His eagerness reached a new height, his hands grabbing your waist and shoving you onto the bed. You gasped, spreading your legs and grinding against the hardness of his cock that you could feel even through his pants. You grew wet, the slickness making it all the easier for Ren to rub himself against you. You grabbed at the bedsheets as he pushed aside his pants only enough to free his cock. Beads of precum smeared on the tip of his thumb when he stroked the head of his erection.

 

“Do you remember when you believed oral sex was with words?” You felt yourself flush in embarrassment. His teasing caused a chill to run along your spine. It was a simple thing to know what he was wanting. You pushed yourself upwards into a sitting position, wrapped one hand around his cock, and gave him a single stroke. He felt so hot in your hand. It was better than you remembered.

 

The pair of you switched positions. Kylo Ren sat on the edge of the bed, and you knelt on the ground in front of him. His hand was toying with your hair. You opened your mouth, your tongue flicking out to lick up his entire length before you sealed your lips around him. You moaned, tilted your head to the side, and kissed at him. Your body was responding, your nipples hardening and goosebumps breaking out along your flesh despite the heat that was spreading through your body.

 

You had an inkling that Kylo Ren had arranged for the outside lessons today for Zolfen. The two of you would not be interrupted.

 

Confident in this, you gripped him more tightly, smacking his cock against your lips, your tongue flicking out of your mouth once more. Ren swore, his grip on your hair becoming more firm as he bucked his hips forward. His lips were pursed then drew back into an expression more akin to a snarl as he held himself back. He wanted you to explore, to take your time with him just as much as he wanted to give into the more carnal desire to pin you against the bed and have his way with you. This was the freedom he had promised you. You took advantage of it, albeit not to the point of abuse. You drew back from him to instead unhook your bra and remove your panties. Ren’s eyes became half-lidded. He rested back on his elbows, his chest rising and falling with his breathing. He was practically panting.

 

You wrapped one leg around his right thigh, grinding against him while toying with your breasts. You had fantasized about touching yourself in this manner when you showered, however you had never fully given in. Shy caresses were all that you had been able to muster. Now, however, you were eager to bring yourself to orgasm. Kylo Ren could hardly hold back any more. He reached down, wrapping one hand around his cock and lazily pumping himself. He would not cum from those touches, yet he would remain aroused. Your jaw dropped at the thought.

 

“Come on,” he whispered. You obeyed, pressing more tightly against his leg, your juices dripping from you and smearing on his flesh. Your tongue wormed between the fingers that were on his dick, touching the smooth surface of his cock when you managed to wriggle past those digits. You had to brace yourself with one hand on his knee. Rotating your hips, you pressed your clitoris more firmly against him. Kylo Ren bounced his leg, rocking it against you, sending nice vibrations through your entire body.

 

“OH!” You threw back your head in a scream, your body shuddering. The tremors of pleasure coursing through you did not subside. A swooping sensation in your stomach served only to increase them as Kylo Ren again grabbed you up and pushed you onto the mattress. His mouth was between your legs, tongue flicking in and out, rocking your clit from side to side. You ground down against his face, one hand in his hair as the other grabbed at the bedframe. “Mm, yes!”

 

Before you could cum again, he crawled up your body. You panted underneath him, feeling his hand between your thighs as he lined himself up with you. You felt complete the moment he was inside of you. Filled. Free.

 

You wrapped your legs around him, your mouth meeting his halfway. The kiss was wet with saliva and your cum. In your old community, you would have been made to feel dirty for this. Now, however, you felt gorgeous. You felt loved.

 

“I missed you so much,” you whispered into the air when the two of you parted for breath. His teeth grabbed at your lower lip, tugging it then releasing it with a light pop. Ren murmured something in agreement to your words. They were not quite as sentimental as yours, yet for you they were enough. They were _his_ way of showing that he cared. That he was true to himself in the same way that you had learned to be true to yourself was important. Besides, you thought, the way he looked at you said it all.

 

It was not only because he had been allowed to see the changes in your community, the fruits of his labor, that Kylo Ren was happy to be there. It was because he was in your arms, because he was with you.


	15. In This New World

**Mother is God**

 

_Behind him, across vast distance of space and time, from the place he had left, he thought he heard music too. But perhaps it was only an echo._

 

**Chapter Fifteen: In This New World**

 

Kylo Ren had rested his head on your chest, and you found yourself all the more relaxed and content as you stroked your fingers through his hair. Time had failed to erase the familiarity each of you felt in the act. He was not completely silent. There were pauses here and there. Ren spoke of the way that the First Order was using your community as an example; the New Republic had failed to assist when you had been in need. Will, as one of Zolfen’s future advisers, would be brought to speak on the behalf of the First Order and your community to other potential allies. Zolfen was still too young to make the trip himself. It had been decided that your son would instead continue his studies here for the time being.

 

He enjoyed your picking up the conversation when at last he trailed off. Kylo Ren stared up at your face as you recounted how you had been given the name _godmother_ by the youth. Rather than be insulted when he fell asleep while you were speaking of other things, you smiled happily. He looked more his age this way. Not exhausted. You dosed, too, for a time.

 

Voices caused you to stir. You sipped out from underneath Ren without waking him. The blankets were wrapped about his waist, and he unconsciously drew your pillow more firmly against his face; you had placed it under his head to keep him more comfortable. You redressed in the same clothes you had worn before then left the room. You were only barely able to intercept Zolfen from rushing to the bedroom so that he could greet Kylo. You placed a lone finger to your lips. He pouted yet complied. He raised his arms to you for you to pick him up. This was a rather rare occurrence, and it served to emphasize his disappointment. You lifted your son into your arms, a smile forming as he rested his head against you quite as Ren had.

 

With the enthusiasm over seeing Kylo Ren now put on hold, Zolfen did not wish to do much at all. His instructors failed to persuade your son to leave your arms, and it was quite apparent that they feared the boy would grow loud and thus awaken Ren if prodded much more. Though Ren had not been one to lose his temper around you or Zolfen, it was clear from the reactions of those in the First Order that he had one. This did not lessen your affection nor respect for the man. He had already proven many times over that he valued your safety as well as that of your son. You did not mind Zolfen’s current act of disobedience either. It was nice to be able to hold him this way.

 

Lily was perhaps just as grateful for Zolfen’s attitude towards studying. She did not confine herself to her room given that they left once they had fully given up. She was stretched across the middle of the living room floor. You were glad that she rested now. There had been so many ways that she had been maturing, and with how she had thrown herself into studying the past three weeks, you believed she deserved a break.

 

She was rather quiet around Kylo Ren when the man at last emerged from the bedroom. Zolfen, on the other hand, had rushed towards the other male and just barely stopped himself from leaping into Ren’s arms. Kylo’s eyes widened a fraction. It was clear he was not normally so well received when he went places. Lily straightened as she observed the man squatting down, reaching into a pocket, and handing something to Zolfen. You readjusted your position in an attempt to see it. Kylo Ren’s eyes shifted up to you, a wry grin forming on his lips.

 

“Dice?” Zolfen twisted at his torso, one hand proffered with its palm up. You stared at the keychain without understanding its significance either. You only knew that it meant _something_ to Kylo Ren. “I’m going to roll them.”

 

“I…” You were ready to tell him that you doubted this was their purpose then stopped when Kylo made a gesture. “Just be careful to not lose them.”

 

Zolfen hummed an acknowledgement whilst taking a seat on the ground in front of Kylo Ren. The Force user slipped into a cross-legged position, his eyes constantly roaming along the boy before him. Your son rolled the dice. The chain restricted much of their movement, however this fact did not seem to bother your child in the least. Lily shifted closer to see the dice, earning a quick glance from Kylo Ren. They locked eyes for half a beat, the pair nodding to one another in silent greeting. The curiosity that existed in Lily in regards to Kylo Ren was apparent. You watched this as much as you observed Zolfen rolling the dice keychain. Lily stared at Ren almost identically to how Zolfen did. She admired him. She was _thankful_ that he had come. It was because of him that things were this way.

 

Your chest felt tight when you thought of what Lily would have been forced to endure had the First Order and Kylo Ren not arrived as they had.

 

At suppertime, it was only the three of you—Kylo Ren, Zolfen and you. Lily had made previous arrangements with a friend. A boy to be exact. You could tell that they were fond of one another, and this was where you felt a little awkward as your protective nature kicked in. Lily had laughed when you had given her a curfew and then wrinkled her nose, shyly asking if you would like the boy to come over some time so that you could be properly introduced. Zolfen had still been with Kylo Ren; the two were nearly inseparable.

 

The more they interacted, the more you realized that Zolfen would be developing a streak of sarcasm. Kylo Ren smirked each time that your son managed a witty retort during one of their light-hearted verbal spars.

 

You began to set the food on the table. Kylo Ren urged you to your seat, taking over the task and making fast work of it by utilizing the Force. Zolfen squealed with joy at the display of power. You loved the way that Ren straightened with pride, how he perked up at the sound of your son’s praise. Even better was the pink hue that rose in his face when you leaned over and placed a small kiss on his cheek.

 

Kylo Ren remained with your community for a length of ten days before events within the First Order pulled him away. In that time, he had had a large influence on Zolfen’s behavior. This was both good and bad; the handful of times that Ren’s temperament was on display, your son had taken some notes. This resulted in him shoving books off the table when his instructors irritated him. It was possibly not the best that you took secret pleasure in watching specific instructors squirm when they eyed you for help then realized that to do so set precedent. They were on their own.

 

Each time that Kylo Ren returned for a visit, he was somewhat surprised yet pleased that you continued to want him. His fear of eventual rejection nearly broke your heart. As time went on, though, he appeared to fear that you would leave him less. The two of you would make love in the bedroom while Zolfen was outdoors with his studies. This allowed for the man to camp out on the living room floor with Zolfen at night every now and again. You sometimes slept on the couch, joining them. They spoke of many things, but most of all the Force and the stars. They had been placed into positions that made it difficult to love completely; biases could not be allowed to form so that it blinded them in their occupations.

 

Zolfen kept the dice with him at all times. They were currently inside of Kylo Ren’s helmet, which was placed on the floor above their pillows. Lily and you had spent the majority of the day together, although now she was at the house she had moved into three months ago. The community was adjusting better with projects, celebrations, and the likes uniting them. It allowed you to relax more as you laid there on the couch and stared at the two most important males in your life.

 

Your son was animatedly telling Kylo Ren the story as to why his instructors had forced him to study with extra lessons the previous weekend. The dark-haired man chuckled although he also informed the boy that the instructors had been correct to reprimand him for shoving aside books simply because he did not like that he had to answer questions about them. “But they were mean questions!”

 

“Oh?” The First Order was having your son study past battles and wars from when the Empire had existed. They asked questions regarding why certain groups should have been killed, why planets suffered because of senators making poor choices. Zolfen struggled with it all largely due to the memory of what the elders had done being so fresh. He tried to argue that the communities shouldn’t have suffered. That someone like Kylo Ren should have come to help them. Zolfen explained this now to the Force user, whose lips parted as he stared at your son.

 

Kylo Ren swallowed thickly; you could hear the action as well as see it from your position. It baffled you in a way. This was the man who was able to see all that _you_ had done and were doing for your community. He so often shorted himself of his own accomplishments.

 

 _It’s good that he comes here when he isn’t fighting_ , you thought. You did not know what or who it was that made him feel so small, but you were here for him. This was something that Kylo Ren remembered well. It did not matter how long he was away, he knew that your feelings for him would remain unchanged and that you would always eagerly await his return.

 

After Zolfen fell asleep for the night, Kylo Ren moved onto the couch with you. You allowed him to maneuver your body atop his, and you rested your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. “He’s so big now.”

 

“He’s five. Five and a half, he likes to tell me,” you whispered, looking at your son. “They grow so fast.” The hand he had on your lower back twitched. His chest rose and fell in a sigh. Kylo Ren shifted a little underneath you, turning to look at Zolfen as well. “Whenever Will speaks of his travels, Zolfen becomes so excited. He wants to go there, too.”

 

“Perhaps the war will be over before then… I want it to be.” You did as well. For your son to be able to travel amongst the stars in a time of peace. You knew that Kylo Ren would be there with him still. They would be together, helping to spread that peace and create important changes like what had happened in your life. “It is so quiet in space.”

 

“Zolfen chatter is the perfect cure for that.” His chest rumbled with his laughter, his entire body shaking. You laughed as well, placing a hand over your mouth to muffle it so that you didn’t awaken your son. “Lily will be making me a godmother in another sense.”

 

“Yes,” he murmured when the two of you had gotten yourselves under control. Lily had married the previous time Kylo Ren had arrived on the planet. She was so young in a way, and yet an adult. She was happy with her husband, and that was what was most important to you. “She keeps touching her stomach.” There was a brief pause. “And you?” You released a _hmm_? “You’ve been choosing to take the medicine. You shouldn’t put your life on hold for me.”

 

You smiled, shifting and crossing your arms across his chest then resting your chin on them. “Like you said: _I’m **choosing**_. Zolfen is my life. You’re my life. It’s the life I’ve chosen. Maybe in the future there will be more children. But that doesn’t define me. I am more than a birthmother. And I have more children that I ever expected. The youth here… It’s _wonderful_ , Ren. What about you?”

 

Kylo Ren turned his head and looked down at Zolfen. “I never expected to have a son.” This time, _you_ looked at _him_ with such awe. “He’s so big now.” The adoration in his voice took your breath away. You leaned up and kissed him. Kylo Ren returned the kiss, cupping your face with both of his hands. “You are a great mother to my son.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We made it to the end~!


End file.
